Make Quilts Not War

chapter 19



Lauren pulled into Harriet’s driveway and parked as close to the studio door as she could. Harriet recognized Connie’s car along with her aunt’s silver Beetle, Robin’s minivan and the older model Mercedes Aiden let Carla drive.

“How was the prom?” she asked as she came through the door, a sheepish smile on her face.

“What were you thinking, not letting anyone call us?” Aunt Beth demanded.

“Let the girl sit down,” Mavis scolded. She must have come with Aunt Beth, Harriet thought. Likewise, DeAnn was sitting beside Robin. With the exception of Jenny—and Sarah, whom they hadn’t seen in weeks—all of the Loose Threads were present. Harriet assumed the monitor receiver in Carla’s left hand meant Wendy was asleep somewhere out of earshot.

She sat down in one of the swivel chairs that had been pushed up to her cutting table. Lauren went through the kitchen door, returning a minute later with a throw pillow from the living room sofa. She put it on the table beside Harriet.

“Elevate,” she said.

Harriet put her arm on the pillow and settled herself.

“So, what happened?” Aunt Beth asked, unable to keep the stern look off her face.

“I was an innocent bystander,” Harriet protested, and then related the whole story one more time.

“No one seems to know who the crazy lady is,” Lauren added when Harriet was finished. “They actually brought her to the hospital instead of the jail because she was acting so crazy. I heard one of the nurses say they had to sedate her and would be sending her to the psych ward.”

“We need to talk to Jenny,” Harriet said. “Not only about why the acid thrower would want to attack her, if, indeed, that was the intention but also, I didn’t get a chance to tell her that her brother wanted to talk to her. He came to me and claimed he isn’t using drugs anymore, and that he needed to warn Jenny about something. He said she was in danger.”

“Do you think he was talking about the woman who threw the acid?” Mavis asked.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Harriet said thoughtfully. “He was lurking around waiting for me to convince Jenny to talk to him. The woman was also wandering the aisles. If I saw her, he must have, and if he knew she was the danger, why wouldn’t he have stopped her?”

“Maybe he was afraid of what she was going to do,” Aunt Beth suggested.

“But he was the one who tackled the woman and threw her bottle of acid out of reach. Then he just disappeared. If he knew she was the danger, why did he wait until she threw the liquid?”

“Maybe he misjudged the level of danger,” Robin suggested.

“But he said Jenny was in danger. He said he’d laid low, but they’d found her anyway. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to match with one crazy woman.”

“What did the doctor say about your arm?” Connie asked. “Is it terribly painful?”

“They didn’t really tell me much,” Harriet said.

“Actually, they had a lot to say,” Lauren told them. “Harriet’s too drugged with pain medicine to remember it all.” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Aunt Beth. “She’s supposed to keep it level or slightly elevated, and she’s supposed to call her doctor tomorrow and have the dressing changed. And she’s supposed to take antibiotics just in case, and pain meds, and they said her own doctor could tell her about plastic surgery in the future.

“The police are testing the brew from the bottle to see what-all was in it. They’re pretty sure it was both hydrofluoric acid and something like sulfuric acid. They want to be sure they got the hydrofluoric stopped. I guess it heads for your bones when it can.”

“So, there you go,” Harriet said. “To answer your other question, it is tender but the pain meds are keeping it in check. Can we talk about Jenny, please?”

“I’m not sure what else there is to say about Jenny until she comes and tells us what’s going on,” Robin said. “Then we can find out what, if any, trouble she’s in.”

Robin hadn’t actively practiced law since her children had started school, but she kept her license current just for these occasions.

“I bet acid lady will turn out to be our tire slasher,” Lauren said.

“We need to find Jenny’s brother,” Harriet said. “Not to minimize the damage of the tire-slashing or the acid-throwing, but Bobby seemed way more worried than one crazy person would warrant.”

“Honey, you’re starting to repeat yourself,” Mavis said.

“Sorry,” Harriet said. “Here’s a new topic for you. Aiden was in the ER. Any guesses as to why he was there? And, Carla, you don’t get to play.”

“Michelle is trying to get Aiden to fire me,” Carla blurted out before anyone could make a guess. “She said my soup poisoned her, and she made Aiden take her to the emergency room. Aiden left me a message on my phone, and Terry brought me home but they’d already left for the hospital.”

“Oh, honey, that’s terrible,” Connie said.

“You can’t get food poisoning from hot soup,” Mavis stated. “Not if you brought it to a boil.”

“Terry searched Michelle’s room, and he found two empty bottles of syrup of ipecac,” Carla said.

“So, she poisoned herself?” DeAnn asked, frowning.

“No one else had any of the soup, because Aiden worked late, and Terry took Wendy and I out to dinner, but Terry thinks she waited until Aiden was home and then drank a dose to make sure she produced the right effect at the right time.”

“And she blamed Carla,” Robin said in a clipped tone.

“Apparently,” Harriet said.

“That’s really bad,” DeAnn said.

“What a psycho,” Lauren said.

Mavis looked at Beth and then Connie.

“We may need to stage an intervention here,” she said. “Interfering with Harriet and Aiden is bad enough, but trying to get Carla fired and ruining her reputation in the process is not acceptable.”

“First things first,” Beth said. “We need to get Jenny out of trouble before something worse happens. Then we can worry about Aiden and his sister.”

“Honey, if it’s getting too uncomfortable, you and Wendy can stay with Rod and me,” Connie said. “You know we have plenty of room, and everything is baby-proofed.”

Carla rolled the baby monitor receiver back and forth from one hand to the other, indecision etched on her face.

“I’ll go back tonight and see how things are,” she said and blushed. “Terry offered to talk to Aiden, but I want to give Aiden a chance to do the right thing.”

“If Michelle is that out-of-control, maybe you should consider Connie’s offer,” Harriet said.

“My two rooms have locks on the doors. I’ll keep Wendy in my rooms instead of the nursery. And Terry gave me a can of pepper spray if all else fails.”

“Keep your cell phone on and with you at all times,” Aunt Beth instructed.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway silenced everyone. A moment later, there was a knock on the door and Jenny entered.

“Hi,” she said with a wan smile.

“Here, sit down,” Mavis said and brought her a wheeled workroom chair.

“Can I get you some tea?” Connie asked.

“That sounds wonderful,” Jenny answered as she took off her coat and sat down. She turned to Harriet. “I’m so sorry. I know that woman thought it was me standing there by my quilt. I have no idea why she wanted to hurt me, but I was her target.”

“You didn’t throw the acid,” Harriet said. “And you couldn’t have guessed it was going to happen.”

“What did the police say?” Robin asked.

“They wanted to know if I know who she is—I don’t—and told me her name is Patty. They weren’t able to get a last name or any other information from her. She was avenging something, they think, but they can’t be sure because she was ranting so much. They had to sedate her just to remove her from the exhibit hall.”

“That’s very strange,” Aunt Beth said. “Have you ever known a Patty? Maybe when you were in school?”

“Of course I’ve known people named Pat or Patty through the years, but no one who bore me any ill will, and I would recognize them on sight. There was a Patty in the commune, but she was African American, so it couldn’t possibly be her.”

“I wonder what her last name is.” Connie mused. “That might tell us something.”

“It was hard to tell how old she was,” Harriet said. “She was definitely older than me, but I don’t think she was fifty yet.”

“So, we can rule out her being a classmate,” Mavis said.

“Can I get anyone some tea?” DeAnn asked. Several people agreed, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

“I’m going to go check Wendy,” Carla said, even though the baby monitor indicated the toddler was asleep and breathing evenly.

“Can I get you anything?” Aunt Beth asked Harriet.

“No, I’m as good as I’m going to get for right now.”

The remaining Loose Threads looked at each other as the crunch of gravel indicated another car had driven into Harriet’s driveway.

“Who could that be?” Mavis wondered. “We’re all here.”

A light knock sounded on the door, and Robin got up to see who was on the porch; her facial expression indicated it was someone she knew.

“Come in, Detective,” she said and stood aside so Jane Morse could come into the room. “What brings you out this late on such a cold night?”

“Let’s not be coy, Ms. McLeod.”

“Which of my clients are you here to question, then.”

“Can we drop the formalities?” Morse asked.

“Are we off the record?” Robin countered.

“For now.”

Robin looked at the ladies sitting in a circle.

“My advice to everyone is that ‘off the record’ only exists on television, and therefore, you shouldn’t say anything without counsel present. I’m available to anyone who feels the need to unburden themselves in the presence of our esteemed colleague. Hand me a dollar before you speak so we’re covered.”

“I’m not here to accuse anyone of anything,” Jane Morse said. “I wanted to see how Harriet was doing, and I took a chance and drove by. I saw all the cars and figured you wouldn’t mind if I stopped.”

“Thank you,” Harriet said.

“I’m guessing you’ve all been doing what the police are doing—trying to figure out who the real target was,” Morse said.

DeAnn and Carla returned with a tray of steaming teacups with containers of milk, lemon, and honey and other sweeteners, passing them around then offering a cup to Jane.

“None of us who saw the woman recognized her,” Harriet said. “And both Jenny and I have known Pattys in the past, but we would recognize them, so we’re drawing a blank.”

“What if I tell you her full name is Patty Sullivan?” Morse asked.

Harriet shook her head.

“Doesn’t help.” She looked at Jenny.

The blood had left Jenny’s face, and she looked like she might faint.

“Put your head between your knees,” Connie ordered.

Lauren quietly slipped the laptop from her messenger bag and turned it on.

“I’d like to speak to my client alone before you question her,” Robin said.

“It’s okay,” Jenny said as she slowly sat up again. She looked at Robin and took a deep breath. “I know—or knew—someone named Sullivan. I mean, I didn’t know him, I knew of him. He was a policeman who was killed a long time ago during the commission of a robbery. My brother Bobby was involved in the incident, although he was not the shooter nor was he a bank robber; he spent two years in jail for it.”

“How long ago are we talking?” Morse asked in a quiet voice.

“Oh, gosh,” Jenny said and looked at the ceiling. “Bobby wasn’t quite twenty, so that would have been…nineteen sixty-eight. Forty-four years ago, maybe.”

Lauren’s fingers flew over the keys as they talked.

“A James Sullivan was killed in the line of duty during a robbery of the Bank of Washington in Lynnwood, Washington. He left behind three small children, including a one-year-old named Patty Sue,” she reported.

“I thought you grew up in a commune,” Harriet said.

“I did,” Jenny said. “We did, but Bobby left when he was eighteen. He got involved in drugs while he was still in Minnesota, and they asked him to leave.”

“I thought everyone used drugs in the sixties,” Lauren said.

“They did,” Jenny said. “And it was the professors’ fault Bobby got into it. They all smoked pot and let the kids over eighteen join them. Bobby began dealing and was good at it—too good. He was attracting too much attention; and not only from the police. He was climbing the ranks of the local drug organization. That didn’t fit with the peace-and-love message of the commune, although I’m not sure where they thought their own illegal drugs were coming from. At any rate, they told Bobby he had to find a new job or move, and so he left.”

“That explains why Patty might want to throw acid on your brother,” Morse said.

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Jenny said. “I found out about it when Bobby wrote to me from jail.”

“Maybe Patty was doing the ‘eye for an eye’ brand of justice. She lost her father, maybe she wanted Bobby’s sister to suffer.” Mavis suggested.

“How did she even know about Bobby’s sister?” Aunt Beth asked.

“Hello—the Internet,” Lauren said. “That’s why she waited so long, too. She had to wait until the information became accessible.”

“That’s a theory,” Detective Morse said. “But it doesn’t feel right. Why now? Forty-four years later.”

“Mental illness can come on at any age, can’t it?” Harriet asked.

“Yes, it can, but how would she know how to find Jenny, or the relationship to her brother. I know she could find basic information, but most mentally-ill people aren’t that organized.

“And I agree basic information about people can be found on the Internet, but that doesn’t tell you their daily schedule or what kind of car they drive. I’ll be surprised if Patty doesn’t turn out to be the tire-slasher, so she had to know which car was Jenny’s.”

“She could have asked around town,” Harriet suggested. “Or found out her address and then followed her.”

“Most people don’t have the skill to follow someone without being detected for long enough to learn what you’d need to know,” Morse said.

Lauren and Harriet looked at each other but didn’t say anything.

“What about Bobby?” Harriet asked Jenny.

“We haven’t spoken to each other in years. He showed up in town asking for money, I refused, and he left. I don’t know if he’s still in town.”

Harriet shared a look with Lauren again.

“If he’s here, we’ll find him,” Morse said. She stood up. “You probably need to rest. I really did stop by to see how you’re doing. And thanks for the tea,” she added.

Mavis got up and helped the detective into her coat.

“Let us know if you find out why this happened to Harriet, will you?” she asked.

“I’ll do my best to find out, and I’ll share what I can.”

“That’s all we ask,” Beth said and joined Mavis at the door. They watched until Detective Morse was out the door and into her car.

“Jenny, I talked to your brother today, and he says he wasn’t asking you for money. He says he was trying to warn you about something,” Harriet said. “Given what happened, I’m wondering if he was going to warn you about Patty the acid thrower or something else entirely. You were there—you have to have noticed that he was the first one to tackle the woman. He was the one who got the acid bottle from her and threw it out of reach. Then he took off.”

“And I’m wondering why you’re not being truthful about it,” Aunt Beth said firmly. “Maybe if you’d told us about your brother and maybe even talked to him, Harriet wouldn’t be scarred for life.”

Harriet thought Aunt Beth laid it on a little thick but was glad she was pressing Jenny to come clean.

“I just don’t want anything to do with him,” Jenny said, the color draining from her face. “He’s been nothing but trouble all our lives.” She turned to Harriet. “I’m really sorry about all this.”

“He told me he’s getting his life together. He said he’s off drugs. He said he’s been lying low, trying to leave you alone, but he had to make contact now for your own good.” Harriet said. “Don’t you think you need to hear him out?”

“How am I supposed to find him?” Jenny asked with a sigh.

“He might be at the Fogg Park campground,” Lauren offered. “Or maybe he’s still hanging around the festival grounds.”

“Fine. If you can find him, I’ll talk to him. I don’t want to open that chapter of my life after all these years, but if it will help make sure that woman isn’t set loose to hurt anyone else, I’ll try.”

Harriet sat up straighter in her chair.

“Don’t even think you’re going along with whoever is going to look for Jenny’s brother,” Aunt Beth informed her. “And just for the record, I think now is a time for us to call Jane. She should be the one talking to him. Or at least be there when it takes place.”

Jenny’s shoulders drooped.

“I may not welcome my brother and all his drama back into my life, but if he’s truly gotten his life straightened out, like Harriet says, then I don’t want to mess that up for him by having the police pick him up, even if it is just for questioning. Once they check his record, they’ll assume he’s guilty of something.”

“Do we have to go looking for him tonight?” Mavis wondered “Patty’s in custody, and it’s not likely she was working with anyone else. Let’s all get a good night’s sleep, and then Jenny can find her brother and see what he was trying to warn her about.”

“That sounds like a good idea to me,” Beth said.

“Will everyone be safe?” Connie asked. She looked at Jenny. “Why don’t you stay in my guest room? I think we’d all feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“I have to admit I’m a little nervous about staying alone at my place,” Jenny confessed. “My husband isn’t going to be home for another week.”

“I’ll call Rod and tell him to be ready to go to your house with us,” Connie said and pulled her cell phone from her purse.

“I can cover your booth for part of the day tomorrow,” DeAnn offered Harriet. “Kissa goes to baby playtime at the church in the morning—her therapist told us we should help her spend time with other babies. Since we don’t know what her life was like before we adopted her, she thought socialization with a group of other babies was in order as a precaution.”

“Precaution against what?” Connie demanded.

“Nothing specific. She mentioned listening to the other babies talking and learning to share and interact in a group.”

“She’s a baby,” Connie said. “Young children don’t develop an awareness of other children until three years at least.”

“I figured it wouldn’t hurt her to go,” DeAnn said. “She seems to like playing around the other kids. So, I’m available in the morning if you want.”

“I can find a sub for the raffle booth in the afternoon,” Mavis said.

“I have to check with my client and see if they’ve finished their system test yet. If they haven’t, I could do time in the booth,” Lauren said.

“Harriet,” Carla said, “if you don’t mind Wendy coming along, I could help you tomorrow.”

“I would love to see Wendy, and I’d appreciate having a little help. I’m not supposed to move my arm, and I could use a ride to the doctor, if you don’t mind, since I have to have the burn checked and redressed. I’m not supposed to drive when I take the medication they gave me.”

“Carla can take Scooter out for you, too,” Aunt Beth said. “And I’m going to go get Brownie, and we’re going to both spend the night with you.”

“That’s not necessary—” Harriet tried to protest.

“Don’t argue with me. We’re not letting you spend the night alone.”

Harriet knew by the tone of her voice there would be no changing her mind.

“Jenny, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go with you when you talk to your brother,” Robin said. “He told Harriet he’s off drugs, but we’re just taking his word for it. Even if he is, with everything that’s happened, I don’t think you should go anywhere alone until we figure out what’s going on.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Aunt Beth agreed. She stood up and wrestled her plump frame into her coat.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Jenny said. “I may not want anything to do with my brother, but I’m not a complete fool. Since we don’t know what’s going on, I think we all should be careful.”

The group nodded their agreement and, one by one, finished their tea and carried their mugs to the kitchen before putting on their coats and gathering their purses.

“I’ll wait with Harriet until you get back,” Lauren said to Aunt Beth.

“Thank you, honey, I’d appreciate it. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time, Carter is spending some quality time with my neighbor, the little rat. She’s been knitting him sweaters, so he feels obligated to go watch movies with her on Saturday nights.”

“Of course he does,” Mavis said. Harriet couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, so she didn’t say anything.

The group finished their goodbyes and left.



“Did you learn anything from Jenny’s quilt?” Harriet asked Lauren when the rest of the group had dispersed. “It felt weird when I turned it to show the back to that nurse, like there was something stiff in the batting.”

“There is. The acid turned whatever it is black where it penetrated the backing. It felt like paper of some sort. It wasn’t solid like a big piece of cardboard or anything like that. The way the quilt folded and bent, it had to have been smallish pieces of paper or posterboard.”

“What do you think it was?”

“I only got a quick look and feel. It’s not like I got to open a seam or put it under a microscope or anything.”

“Throw me a bone here; make a guess as to what it could be.”

“Given how old it is, it could be computer punch cards, index cards, or depending how it was packaged, it could even be money.”

“Why on earth would Jenny have money or cards of some sort inside her quilt?” Harriet asked, more to herself than to her friend.

“That would be the question, now, wouldn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, I think it means Jenny still isn’t telling us everything she knows about what’s happening,” Harriet said.

“We could get out the spotlight and rubber hose and force her to tell us,” Lauren said with a grin.

“Short of torture, I’m afraid we have to wait until she’s ready to tell us what she knows. And judging by her recent behavior, I’m not holding my breath on that.”

“I’ve got to dig out my Star Trek costume when I get home,” Lauren said, changing the subject. “In some circles, the most important event of the nineteen-sixties was the three-year flight of the starship Enterprise.”

“Gosh, was it really only three years?”

“It was,” Lauren replied. “Seems like it should have been longer, given the following it still has, but the original TV series was just three seasons. Of course, there were the movies and the spin-off series, but for the purists it was only three glorious years.”

Harriet didn’t know what to say to that, so she remained silent.

“Does your arm hurt?” Lauren asked.

“The medication is taking the edge off, but I can still feel the fire.”

“Do you want an ice pack or anything?”

“No, I just want to go to bed. Besides, if I have any hope of going to the concert tomorrow night, I have to convince my aunt it’s not as bad as she thinks, which means no ice pack or other display of discomfort.”

“Aren’t you just the tough one?”

“Would you want to miss a chance to go backstage at a Colm Byrne concert?”

“He’s not my style, but if you like that sort of thing, I guess not.”

“One of your merry band of protesters told me the band is going to play covers of a sampling of popular songs from the decade.”

“That might be interesting.” Lauren allowed. “Or it could be hideous,” she added. “If they’re like most tribute bands.”

“Have you looked up what songs made the top ten for the decade?” Harriet asked, knowing Lauren’s love of data.

“As a matter of fact, I did look up the top one hundred songs. Somehow, I can’t see Colm Byrne doing Aretha Franklin or Marvin Gaye. Likewise, Simon and Garfunkel had a range between the two of them that most people can’t imitate. ‘Louie, Louie’ has been played by every high school band every year since the Kingsmen recorded it, so they can probably do that one.”

She continued her analysis of the songs and her opinion as to the likelihood of Colm Byrne being able to cover them adequately until Aunt Beth returned.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’m out of here,” Lauren announced when she came back in from taking Scooter for his last walk of the night.

“Thanks for all your help,” Harriet said and yawned.

“Try not to get in any more trouble until tomorrow,” Lauren admonished as she gathered her bag and left.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Aunt Beth said when she’d taken her coat off and stowed her overnight bag in her bedroom. She followed Harriet upstairs carrying Brownie under her arm, Fred and Scooter following behind them.