Make Quilts Not War

chapter 22



Harriet woke from the nap Carla had insisted she take and found Carla gone and that Mavis had replaced her. Scooter was on his fleece mat beside the older woman; her own dog Curley was asleep in her lap.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. I thought I was going to have to wake you, and I was afraid I’d hurt your arm.”

“Are we late? Did I sleep too long?” Harriet asked as she rubbed her eyes with her good hand. She had agreed to go upstairs to her TV room and was propped up on the sofa with her arm resting on a pillow across her chest.

“No, we’ve still got a few hours before we have to go. You were moaning in your sleep. Does your arm hurt?”

“I was dreaming. There was a mountain lion on a narrow ledge looking over a sandstorm. And a scary-looking clown was climbing up the sheer cliff toward the cat.”

“That’s a weird one.” Mavis said.

“During the dream, I was terrified. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.”

“Your dreams are supposed to mean something if you know how to interpret them.”

“Do you know what this one means?”

Mavis made a derisive noise.

“I don’t believe in that nonsense,” she said.

Harriet laughed.

“Why did you tell me they meant something, then?”

“You young people seem to believe.”

“I’m not sure I follow your logic, but maybe Lauren can look it up for me.”

“Are you hungry? I made a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches and heated some tomato soup.”

“That sounds good,” Harriet said. “I can come down to the kit-chen.”

“As long as you can get upstairs again—if you’re going to change into a sixties outfit, that is.”

“We have to wear costumes to the kitchen?” Harriet asked with a smile.

“To the concert, Miss Smarty Pants, but I suppose if it hurts your arm too much we could make excuses for you.”

“My arm hurts, but it’s a burn, not an amputation or paralysis or something serious.”

“I was just giving you an out,” Mavis said. “Excuse me for trying to take care of you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be critical.”



It was full dark when Harriet and Mavis met Carla and Lauren in front of the auditorium; this time of the year it usually happened around five-thirty and then only if it wasn’t cloudy.

“Where’s Jenny?” Harriet asked.

“Robin called and said Jenny didn’t want to come at the last minute, so she insisted she come to her house. Connie and Rod are babysitting Wendy so Carla can enjoy herself. Robin’s husband brought their passes to Connie’s so Carla could bring them to the concert in case anyone needed them.”

Carla reached into her jacket pocket and pulled the passes out.

“I was going to have a sitter come to Aiden’s, but with Michelle there, I didn’t want to risk it,” Carla said.

“That’s a smart decision,” Harriet said. “Has anyone talked to Aunt Beth? Is she coming?”

“I think she’s going to help Jorge with food,” Mavis said. “They’ve set up tables in the lobby and are going to sell light snacks and drinks during the intermission. Beth figures they’ll be able to hear the concert from there.”

“Has anyone heard from DeAnn?” Harriet asked.

“She called when you were resting and said she needed to spend some time with her kids.”

The door to the auditorium opened, and Colm Byrne’s assistant came out.

“You ladies ready for your tour?” Skeeter asked. “Do we need to wait for more people?”

“No,” Harriet said. “Jenny decided not to come, and our friend Robin is staying with her. And another lady had to be with her kids tonight.”

“Jenny not a Colm Byrne fan?” he asked. It was clear he couldn’t believe that could be true of anyone.

“It’s not that,” Harriet answered. “She just had something else to do.”

“Well, they’re going to miss a good show,” Skeeter said. “Shall we go in?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just went to the nearest set of doors and held one open.

Burly black-T-shirted men were in evidence inside the door and outside of each doorway they passed. As promised, Colm Byrne had increased the security.

Harriet was wearing bell-bottom jeans and a Mexican peasant blouse. She’d discovered that, after her visit to the doctor, her bandage was too big to comfortably wear a long-sleeved shirt over it. She layered two tank tops under the short-sleeved blouse and put on a knitted poncho Mavis had brought along when she’d come to sit with her. Harriet wasn’t quite sure if Mavis had gotten it at a secondhand store last week or if she’d had it in her closet since the nineteen-sixties, but she was thankful.

Skeeter instructed the women to put the lanyards around their necks and turn the passes so the front was visible. He checked to see that everyone had complied.

“We have strict security procedures in place because of what’s going on here,” he said and, turning, led them to a door beside the stage. “You need to stay together at all times, and don’t wander off into any area I’ve not taken you to.

“We have a green room where performers hang out when they’re not performing—we usually have a local band from whatever city we’re in to open for us. They play before Colm and then midway between sets.” He made a noise that Harriet guessed was supposed to be a chuckle. “He’s not as young as he once was. He doesn’t perform two hours straight anymore like he used to.

“For this event we ran open auditions for folk artists and other types of tribute bands. We have a Peter, Paul and Mary tribute band, a Four Tops band, a trio that plays Simon and Garfunkle music and a really good Stevie Wonder impersonator.”

True to his word, the room was green, and it was full of people dressed to look like the singer or band they were supposed to be.

“Are you one of the Tops or Stevie Wonder?” Harriet asked a man with coffee-colored skin and shoulder-length dreadlocks.

“Both,” he said with a laugh. “I come out first with the Four Tops and then again two sets later in a different outfit as Stevie Wonder.”

“Are there a lot of sixties festivals?”

“No. We do a few, but mostly we do cruise ships. But never with a big name like Colm Byrne.”

“Cruising all the time must be fun,” Mavis said.

“It’s a living,” the man said with a smile.

The Threads spoke to the other performers, and then Skeeter ushered them to the backstage dining room. Comfy chairs were placed around small tables throughout the space, with a loaded buffet table along the back wall. Two men in white aprons stood behind the buffet, ready to carve meat for the guests. They were both covered in tattoos, including, Harriet noticed, a stylized peace symbol.

One man had a full head of shoulder-length white hair pulled into a low ponytail. He was big, with biceps that strained the rolled up sleeves of his denim work shirt. The second man also sported a tail, but in his case the top of his head was nearly bald and his hair was a dirty gray color. He was thin but muscular.

“Don’t look like your typical food service people, do they?” Lauren muttered as she headed toward their table.

Harriet had to hurry to catch up.

“Do you cook the food yourselves?” she asked white-hair.

“Do I look like Julia Child?” he shot back.

“My friend meant to say, no, we don’t,” said the gray-haired man. “Can we cut some meat for you?”

The big man gave his partner a dirty look but didn’t say anything.

Lauren asked for roast beef and then moved on down the table. Harriet chose pork roast, which the white-haired man was serving.

“Which one of you was wearing the Afro wig yesterday?” he asked as he sliced her meat.

“None of us, actually,” Harriet replied. “Why?”

White Hair narrowed his eyes and glared at her.

“I thought I recognized her. We went to high school together.”

Harriet added fruit to her plate and joined Lauren at one of the small tables.

“That was weird,” she said. “The big guy just asked me where Jenny was. He said they went to high school together.”

“If I’m not mistaken, those are prison tattoos on their arms. And those teardrops by their eyes represent people they’ve murdered.”

Mavis filled her plate and pulled a chair up to Lauren and Harriet’s table.

“What are you two whispering about?” she asked.

“The big guy that’s slicing pork asked me where Jenny was. He said he went to high school with her.”

“Well, that sounds fishy, given she was schooled in the commune.”

“He asked me about Jenny, too,” Carla said. She’d just joined them. “He asked me if I knew the lady who had been wearing the afro.”

“What did you say?” Harriet asked.

“I told him I didn’t know who he was talking about, and that lots of people were wearing afro wigs at this event.”

“Good girl,” Harriet said.

Several of the singers brought their plates to the next table and sat down, ending the conversation.



Twenty minutes passed before Skeeter came back to escort them to their next backstage activity.

“You ladies ready to meet the man?” he asked.

“I have a question,” Harriet said. “Who are those two guys carving the meat? They don’t seem like your usual food service workers.”

“And they were asking a lot of questions,” Mavis added.

Skeeter glared at the two men then turned back to Harriet.

“Since Colm’s made it big he’s tried to hire people who couldn’t get a job otherwise. I’m sure you wouldn’t be surprised to find out these two have done time. They usually do more physical labor, but our regular cook got hurt, so the kitchen helpers had to step in, and we had to move those two up. I thought they could handle it, but I guess not.”

He glanced at his watch.

“We better move. Colm will meet you in his dressing room. But we’ve got to swing back by the front entrance to gather up some folks who won backstage visits in a radio contest.”

The newcomers wore red passes with the radio station’s call letters around their necks, apparently denoting their lesser status. When they returned backstage, Colm Byrne and his band members sat at a table in the main passageway. The radio station bunch was ushered to the table while Skeeter sent the Threads into what turned out to be Colm’s dressing room.

A large bowl of fresh fruit sat in the middle of a table on one wall. To the left of the fruit, bottles of water stuck out of a large tin wash bucket that was half-full of crushed ice. To the right, a ceramic bowl was filled with dark chocolate truffles.

“Make yourself at home,” Skeeter said and shut the door as he left.

Harriet immediately made a move toward the truffle bowl.

“You don’t have to ask me twice when it comes to chocolate.”

She selected a truffle with a pink dot of hard frosting on its top. Mavis joined her and selected one with a sprinkle of large salt crystals.

“Somehow I thought they’d have beer and chips for snacks,” she said.

“When they were younger, they probably did eat like that,” Lauren said. “I read an article on the Internet that said the groups that survived the sixties and still are active have learned to live a healthier life. Ozzy Osbourne travels with a personal trainer!”

“Wow,” Carla said.

“Are you ladies enjoying your tour?” Colm Byrne asked as he joined them

“We definitely like the chocolates,” Harriet said.

Colm went to the bowl and selected a truffle.

“Our nutritionist only lets us have them on performance days.”

“We were just talking about how healthy your snacks are,” Lauren said.

“We’ve been in the game a long time,” he said with a smile. “We have to use every trick in the book to keep up with the younger guns.” He stepped over to an electric kettle sitting on his dressing table and began preparing a cup of peppermint tea laced with honey. “I hope I can trust you ladies not to let out my secret weapon.” He held up his teacup.

“Our lips are sealed,” Mavis said.

“When I met you ladies the other day, I thought there were more of you. Are some of your group not fans?” Colm asked.

“Some people had better things to do,” Lauren said.

“Ouch,” he said with a smile.

“What my friend meant to say is that some of our group had obligations in other areas of the festival,” Harriet said. “My aunt, for one, will be helping serve food during your intermission.”

“How did the festival end up landing a big act like yours for our little event?” Lauren asked sweetly.

“We like to get back to our roots once in a while. We used to play small festivals in Ireland when we were starting out. We had some time off a couple of months ago and saw the notice that you were looking for a band. It sounded fun, so I called my buddy Jerry to see if we could get in.”

“Did you meet Jerry in Ireland?” Harriet asked.

“That I did,” Colm said. “That I did.”

“Everyone is happy to have a big name like you. We’ll probably get a lot of out-of-town people tonight,” Mavis said.

“I had them save front-row seats for you for the performance. The radio people will be behind you. Skeeter will come get you in a few minutes. We’ll have a couple of sets by the local bands before I come out. I hope you enjoy the show.”

“Thank you so much,” Carla said, blushing furiously.

“Are you the young lady who’s never been to a show before?”

Carla was so starstruck all she could do was nod her head. Colm opened a drawer in his dressing table and pulled out a colorful scarf.

“These are my trademark,” he said and handed it to Carla.

“Thank you so much,” she stammered and carefully took the scarf from his hands.

Mavis wound it around Carla’s neck, crossing it into a loose knot at her throat. Carla thanked Colm again, and then Skeeter came into the room and led them to the front row of the auditorium. The seats were roped off, including the ones that would have been Robin’s and Jenny’s.

“I’m going to the restroom one last time,” Harriet said.

“Take Lauren with you, and when you get back, Carla and I will go,” Mavis instructed.



Harriet was standing outside the restroom door waiting for Lauren when Tom approached her.

“Hey,” he said. “You here for the concert?”

“Not only am I here, I have front-row seats.”

“Did the organizers feel sorry for you?” he asked with a smile.

“No, we actually had these tickets before I got hurt.”

“Did you charm Mister Byrne out of them?”

“Actually, we performed a service for him—and not the one you’re thinking of. His stage manager asked us to sit and listen while they adjusted the sound and lights for the smaller venue.”

“That’s lucky. I paid twenty-five dollars for my ticket at the vendor’s rate, and I’m halfway back.”

“Come sit with us,” Harriet said.

“How can I do that? I heard it’s a sellout.”

“Jenny and Robin decided to stay home at the last minute. We have their passes.”

“In that case, I’d be happy to join you,” Tom said and smiled at her.

They waited for Lauren then went back to their seats, guarding purses while Mavis and Carla had their turn powdering their noses. Then the show began.

The first act was the Simon and Garfunkle tribute trio, consisting of two men and a woman. The men were deft guitarists, and with the woman to cover the higher ranges, they were able to sing credible versions of “Sounds of Silence,” “Scarborough Fair,” and “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” The Four Tops send-up group sang “I Can’t Help Myself,” which was the song most people knew of as “Sugar Pie Honey Bunch,” and finished with “Reach Out, I’ll be There.”

The background band played a musical interlude while the stage was reset, and then the man himself walked out on stage, guitar in hand.

Colm played a medley of songs, starting with the ballad “Roses are Red (My Love),” an old Bobby Vinton song, and several others from the early sixties. Harriet couldn’t have told anyone what else he played. Mavis and Carla were clapping and, in Mavis’s case, singing along. Lauren had her smartphone concealed by her leg and was looking something up. Tom seemed to be listening, but Harriet was mentally reviewing what had been going on for the last few days.

The police were treating the shooting, the tire-slashing, her acid attack and Bobby’s killing as if they were four coincidental but separate incidents, but it didn’t seem likely to Harriet. Their festival was too small to have so many unless they were related. And Jenny seemed to be at the center of it all.

Before she realized it, Tom had taken her hand and was urging her to her feet.

“It’s intermission,” he whispered into her ear. “You were a million miles away—want to tell me where?”

“Not here,” she murmured.

“We’re going to the restrooms and then maybe check out the food,” Harriet told Carla and Mavis.

“We’re going to go find a band T-shirt for Carla,” Mavis said. “After all, she needs something to commemorate her first-ever rock concert.” She beamed at her.

“I’m going to the bathroom with them,” Lauren said, gesturing toward Harriet and Tom. Mavis glared at her but didn’t say anything.

Tom led Harriet and Lauren out of their row and into the main aisle.

“I presume we aren’t really going to the restrooms,” he said when they were far enough from Mavis and Carla they wouldn’t be heard.

“No, we are not,” Harriet said.

“I knew it,” Lauren said. “Are we going backstage?”

“No. I think with all the extra security Colm has in place, we wouldn’t get very far. We’re going to see if Jenny’s quilt is still at her display. If it is, we’re going to see if we can figure out what’s inside it besides batting.”

“I thought they closed the exhibit during the concert,” Lauren said.

“They did, but only for the general public. Those of us with vendor badges can get in,” Harriet informed her.

“What about those of us without a badge?” Tom asked.

“I’ll wave this,” Harriet lifted her bandaged arm. “I’ll tell them I need you to carry something for me. We can grab something from my booth if we need to.”

“Time’s a-wasting, kids,” Lauren said and then led the way out of the auditorium and toward the exhibit hall.

The attendant opened the exhibit hall door and waved them in, barely glancing at Harriet’s proffered badge. They started down the main aisle, but Harriet stopped, putting a finger to her lips. She waved them down a side aisle then stopped to listen. She could hear muffled voices at the back of the hall.

They made their way slowly toward Jenny’s stage, stopping at every aisle to look and listen before advancing. The quilts hanging in almost every vendor booth limited their visibility.

“Look, Jonquil, we just want our money,” a deep male voice said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jenny said, “and I don’t know who Jonquil is. Is this some sort of joke?”

“Don’t give me that,” the man said. “You and Paisley are the only ones who got away.”

They heard the sound of scuffling, and then a woman screamed.

Harriet rushed down the aisle, followed by Tom, stopping abruptly when they reached Jenny’s stage. Lauren cut down the last side row and disappeared. The two cooks from the buffet were restraining Jenny and Robin.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harriet yelled at them. “Let them go.”

“I suppose you’re going to make me,” the white-haired guy said.

Tom came up behind Harriet.

“Oh, are you the muscle for the ladies?” White Hair said.

“Let them go,” Harriet repeated.

The smaller man looked at his partner. He was clearly not prepared for an audience.

In that moment both men looked at each other at the same time, Lauren came out from behind the black curtain where Jenny’s quilt had hung. She jumped from the raised stage, kicking the big guy in the back of his knees as she landed. Before the gray-haired man could move, Tom did a sweeping karate kick that knocked him to the floor. Lauren hit White Hair with a punch to the kidney, dropping him to the floor.

Harriet grabbed a roll of pre-made quilt binding from the vendor booth across from Jenny’s display. She tossed it with her good hand to Lauren, who promptly tied her man’s hands behind his back. Tom was sitting on the back of his guy, pinning the man’s wrist in the small of his own back.

“Everyone good?” Harriet asked.

Robin nodded and turned around so they could see she was on her cell phone. Jenny was nowhere to be seen.

Robin finished her call and put her phone down.

“I called nine-one-one,” she announced.

“Where’s Jenny?” Harriet asked.

“I don’t know. I started dialing the police as soon as I was free. Thank you, Lauren and Tom,” she added.

“When did you learn those moves?” Harriet asked them.

“I’ve been taking martial arts classes since I was in grade school. Mom insisted,” Tom said.

“I took a women’s self-defense class when Avanell passed away. My class decided to keep going,” Lauren said.

“It’s a good thing,” Harriet said.

“I called Detective Morse, too,” Robin advised.

“Where do we think Jenny went?” Lauren asked.

“Not far, I hope,” Robin said. “We came here together, and she drove. We intended to get her quilt—she hung it up today with a piece of fabric basted over the damage, and wanted to appliqué a more permanent cover for the burned area.”

“You can ride home with me,” Harriet offered.

“Thanks.”

Detective Morse arrived at the same time as the patrol cars. She directed two officers Harriet had never seen before to cuff the men and take them to the jail on charges of assaulting Robin and Jenny. When the reading of rights was done and the officers and the two cooks were gone, she turned to Harriet, Robin, Lauren and Tom.

“Somebody better start talking before I start arresting people for obstruction of justice,” she said.

“Hey, I called you,” Robin protested.

“That’s a step in the right direction, counselor. Now, how about the rest of you tell me everything you know. And by the way, where is Jenny? If I understand what went on here, she was one of the people being assaulted.”

“She ran out during the scuffle,” Harriet said, “We truly don’t know what’s going on, except that we keep finding ourselves in the middle of whatever this is, and not in a good way.”

“The other thing we know, and I’m thinking this should already be obvious to you, is that Jenny is the connecting thread in all this,” Lauren said.

Harriet glared at her.

“I’m not trying to throw her under the bus, but let’s get real. Pamela Gilbert gets shot standing on Jenny’s stage, Jenny’s tires get slashed, and Harriet gets acid thrown at her while holding Jenny’s quilt. Then Jenny’s brother gets killed. Now, Jenny and Robin get grabbed by a couple of ex-cons, and Jenny doesn’t hang around to report it. Anyone with half a brain can see that Jenny is the common denominator here.”

“How do you know the two men we just arrested are ex-cons?” Morse asked.

“There’s only one place you can get tattoos like those, and it’s in prison. I mean, come on—teardrops? Spider webs on their elbows? They’re classic prison ink.”

“Colm Byrne’s stage manager told us he liked to give a hand up to ex-cons,” Harriet added.

“How does Jenny connect to a pair of ex-cons?” Morse asked.

“We have no idea,” Harriet said. “We’ve been trying to get her to tell us what’s going on, but so far she’s told us very little.”

“So tell me what she’s told you,” Morse said.

“She told us she grew up in a commune,” Lauren said. “Big whoop.”

“I presume you checked it out,” Morse asked.

“I did, but I didn’t find much. The commune exists and is known locally for its truck farming. Oh, and it’s in Minnesota—George-ville, to be exact.”

“We couldn’t see how that mattered,” Harriet said. “Except for the fact she’s been lying to us for years—by omission, but a lie, nonetheless.”

“Someone needs to go tell Mavis and Carla why we didn’t return after intermission, or they’re goin-g to be sending out a search party,” Tom said.

Detective Morse looked at her notepad.

“Do you have anything else to add?” she asked Tom.

“Not really,” he said. “I was just tagging along with Harriet and Lauren when we found the thugs holding Jenny and Robin hostage.”

“Do you have any idea where Jenny went?”

“Not a clue.”

“You can go, but the rest of you stay.” She waited until he was gone. “What’s the story with Jenny?” she demanded of the Loose Threads. “Why was she here tonight, and where is she now? The hall is closed to the public. And how did she get here?”

“She was spending the evening with me,” Robin explained. “At the last minute, she decided not to go to the concert, so I volunteered to stay home with her. Her husband is off on a hunting trip in Africa, and with everything that’s going on, we all agreed she shouldn’t be home, given what happened at her house. And we can’t be sure she wasn’t the intended target. We really don’t know where she is. You know I’d tell you if I knew.”

“I don’t know, either,” Harriet said. “I didn’t expect to see Jenny here tonight. She was planning to skip the concert.”

“What she said,” Lauren chimed in.

“Any idea where she’d go?” Morse asked the trio.

They all shook their heads no.

“Maybe she’s waiting out front,” Lauren suggested.

“My guess is she’ll show up at one of our houses,” Harriet said.

“I want to hear from you the minute she turns up. And that goes for the rest of the Loose Threads, too,” Morse cautioned. “I’m going to go see what our two ex-cons have to say for themselves. Please, stay out of trouble.” With that, she turned and left.

“What now, chief?” Lauren asked Harriet.

“First we need to see if the quilt is here, and if it is, take it home with us. Then, we need to find Jenny.”

Robin put her fingers in her ears.

“I can’t hear this part,” she said and stepped away from Lauren and Harriet.

“Can your people find Jenny?” Harriet asked Lauren in a quiet voice.

“Probably, let me check.” She tapped out a quick text message and sent it. “Someone should get back to me in a few minutes.”

Harriet stepped up on the small stage and pulled aside the black curtain. Jenny had taken her quilt off display and put another of her on the hanging rod. The damaged quilt was folded up and stowed in a pillowcase.

“It’s here,” she said.

“Get out of the way, cripple,” Lauren said. “You’re not supposed to be using your bad arm.”

“I’ll take the quilt,” Robin said. “I don’t have a ticket for the concert, and I’m pretty sure I don’t have a ride home, either. I’ll wait out in the lobby until the show’s over.”

“We have a spare badge,” Lauren said. She held out her keys. “You can put the quilt in my car and then come back in. We’re in the front row, center. With the lighting effects, you can slip in without being noticed.”

Robin took the keys and pass and left the hall; Harriet and Lauren returned to the auditorium.



It seemed to Harriet they had been in the exhibit hall for hours, but in reality, the concert had barely started again when she and Lauren returned.

“We were beginning to wonder where you’d gotten to,” Mavis said, leaning over Carla “I’ll tell you about it when this is over,” Harriet said loud enough so Mavis could hear over the noise of the music.

The black man Harriet had spoken to in the green room earlier came out in his Stevie Wonder persona to start the second half of the concert. He began with “A Place in the Sun” followed by “Tears of a Clown.” By the third song, Harriet was no longer listening. She’d slipped her phone from her pocket and was silently tapping a group text to the Threads.

Meet at my house after the concert.

Aunt Beth answered immediately, asking if everything was okay. Harriet answered that it was, but that they all needed to talk.

She looked up again, and Colm Byrne had taken the stage. He sang a medley of hits from the era, starting with “Like a Rolling Stone” and on through the “Ballad of the Green Berets” by Sgt. Barry Sadler, whoever he was, and then several Beatles songs.

“Are we done yet?” Lauren texted to Harriet.

Harriet just rolled her eyes then looked back to the stage. Colm had transitioned to some of his own most popular hits. If the truth were told, Harriet was with Lauren—she was ready to be done with the concert and on to talking with the Threads.

Colm sang for another thirty minutes and finally took his bow, and after one encore, the audience let him go. Harriet, Mavis, Lauren and Carla waited politely for the crowd in the aisle to ease then stood up and gathered their purses and coats.

“Would you ladies like to join Colm in the back?” Skeeter asked. He’d been waiting for them to exit their row. He looked at Tom.

“I’ve got to go. Will you ladies be okay?” Tom asked, looking at Harriet.

Harriet and Lauren looked at each other and then at Mavis.

“We can come for a few minutes,” Mavis told Skeeter. “I have a little dog I have to take out, so we can’t stay long.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Harriet asked Tom.

“If you wish,” he said with a crooked smile. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss, then turned and went up the aisle.

Skeeter led them to the door at the base of the stage and once again into the labyrinthine backstage area, guiding them to a room they hadn’t seen in their previous visit. Everything in this room was intended to soothe, from the pastel wall drapes and overstuffed furniture to the table full of soothing drinks and warming oven full of heated towels for the singer to wrap around his neck.

“That was great,” Harriet said, hoping she had conveyed an enthusiasm she didn’t feel. “I especially liked the part at the end where you did your own music.” That part was true anyway, The man could sing.

“I was going to get a CD, but the booth we went to had sold out,” Carla said, her cheeks flaming.

“I’m sorry, that shouldn’t happen. We carry a lot of inventory in the truck, but the sales crew sometimes underestimates what the demand will be. Once the intermission starts, there isn’t time to restock.”

“I can buy it at the store,” Carla said.

“Would you like something to drink?” Colm asked.

Harriet and Lauren accepted tea with honey, but Mavis and Carla declined.

“Is your friend Jerry here tonight?” Harriet asked.

“No, he doesn’t like loud music. I went to his house and played some of my new stuff on my acoustic guitar the other night.”

“Oh, yeah, you were coming from there the other morning when we saw you in the parking lot.”

“Ah, yeah, we were up late, so I spent the night on his couch.”

“Thank you for treating us so special,” Mavis said, “But I really do need to get home to take care of my dog. She’s a recent rescue, so she needs more TLC than the average pet.”

Harriet and Lauren set their cups down in unison and turned toward the door.

“I’m glad to be of service,” Byrne said. “I understand that, in addition to aiding us in our setup tests, you ladies rescued us when our freezer broke.”

“Anyone would have done the same,” Mavis said. “Now, we really do have to leave.”

She led the group out the door and into the now-quiet auditorium.

“Is Curly having problems?” Harriet asked Mavis.

“No, I just couldn’t see the point of wasting time heaping more praise on that man.”

“Didn’t you like the concert?” Carla asked.

“It was fine, as these things go, but I’d rather find out why Harriet is texting us all for a meeting this late at night.”

“We need to find Robin,” Harriet said. “She was supposed to join us.”

“I thought she was home with Jenny,” Mavis said.

“It’s a long story.”

“Jenny and Robin came to get Jenny’s quilt,” Lauren said. “We found them at the quilt stage fighting with those two cooks. We subdued the villains, called Jane Morse, Jenny took off and now we’re all meeting at Harriet house,” she finished with a deep breath.

Harriet tapped on the face of her phone, spoke quickly into it and hung up.

“Robin’s outside. She went out to make some calls and said by the time she was done, it was too late to come back in unobtrusively,” she reported.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Mavis said. “I really do have to take Curly out eventually.”

Carla and Lauren were both on their phones.

“Grandpa Rod is okay with keeping Wendy, and Connie said she’d meet us at Harriet’s.” Carla reported.

“Jenny has been located,” Lauren said cryptically. “We can swing by the Steaming Cup and pick her up, if you want,” she told Harriet.

With their meeting plan in place, they went to their cars to carry out their assignments before driving to Harriet’s.