Make Quilts Not War

chapter 25



Harriet awoke with a shout the next morning as Scooter jumped onto her bandaged arm. He immediately cowered at the bottom corner of the bed as she sat up and leaned against her headboard.

“Come here, little guy.” She managed to coax him back to her lap. “Mommy’s not mad at you,” she said in a higher than normal voice. “Mommy’s arm is hurt, just like your back. I know you didn’t mean anything.”

“Who are you talking to?” Mavis called up the stairs.

“Scooter,” she called back and then noticed the aroma of bacon. “We need to go down and see what your auntie Mavis is making,” she said to Scooter.

She carefully set him aside and got out of bed. Dressing was a bit tricky with her arm, so she eased it into an old flannel bathrobe her aunt had left behind then picked up her dog and went downstairs.

“Don’t tell your aunt what I cooked you,” Mavis said as soon as Harriet came into sight.

“What are you making me?”

“I’ve got some buttermilk waffles in the oven, bacon and scrambled eggs and some homemade sourdough toast.”

“Bless you,” Harriet said. “I’m sure I need this to heal my arm.”

“My thinking exactly.” Mavis extracted a bottle of maple syrup from a pan of hot water and wiped it dry with a dishcloth before putting it on the kitchen table, where she’d set two places. “I put food down for both your pets, too, so you sit down and tell me whether you want tea or coffee or something else.”

Harriet chose tea, and Mavis fixed two cups then sat down on the opposite side of the table. She made small talk while they ate. She reminisced about quilting in the sixties and swore she had only made one polyester quilt during that time.

“I mostly did what I’ve always done,” she said. “Traditional patterns, stitched by hand. There weren’t any new designs or designers that I remember.”

“Okay, I’m done,” Harriet said when she’d eaten some of everything Mavis had cooked for her. “Can we talk about Jenny now? I know you were trying to avoid controversy while I was eating, but I’m through, and it was delicious, and I’ve got some things to tell you.”

“Let me top off our tea, and then I’m ready to listen.”

“After you-all left last night, Lauren remembered that she had Jenny’s quilt in her car.” Harriet paused to sip her tea. Mavis leaned forward in her seat. “I’d noticed there was something weird about the quilt where the acid had splashed it. I think Lauren had, too, so we brought it in and poked at the spot where the acid had eaten the fabric away.”

“And?”

“And, first, the batting wasn’t regular batting. There was a little bit of something fuzzy that was much thinner than the batting we use. Then there was newspaper—from the nineteen-sixties. And finally, there was money—a lot of money.”

“How much are we talking?” Mavis looked intently at her.

“Hard to tell. The piece of bill I pulled out looked like it was a hundred. We opened a seam on the opposite corner, and there were more. I can’t even guess how much is in there, but it looks like it’s multiple layers of bills.”

“That would be a little over fifty thousand dollars per layer.” Mavis and Harriet had been so focused on their discussion neither one had noticed Lauren come in. “My client had some crisis that didn’t involve me, so they rescheduled my eight o’clock. I thought I’d drop by and see what was happening here.”

“Have you eaten?” Mavis asked. “We just finished, and I’ve got plenty left.”

“In that case, I’d love some.”

Once again, Mavis wouldn’t let them talk about anything stressful while Lauren was eating.

“So, I take it Harriet told you what we found last night,” Lauren said when she’d finished.

“Is there more?” Mavis asked.

“Nothing but speculation after we found the money.”

“The money has to be related to the robbery, don’t you think?” Harriet asked.

“It’s hard to see how it could be any other way,” Lauren agreed. “Especially with the newspaper scrap dated nineteen-sixty-seven.”

Harriet paused, deep in thought.

“Uh-oh,” Lauren said. “Harriet’s about to have a big idea.”

“What if Jenny is one of the bank robbers?” she said.

“Oh, honey, that’s not possible,” Mavis said.

“Think about it,” Harriet insisted. “It’s become pretty obvious that Jenny’s been keeping secrets for a long time. What’s to say she’s telling the truth now? No doubt some of what she’s saying is true, but I’ll bet there are still some big holes in her story.”

“This has possibilities,” Lauren said.

“She could be one of the robbers,” Harriet persisted. “That would give those two goons that jumped her and Robin a motive, especially if she has all the money and not just her share. Do we know how much was taken in the robbery?”

“I don’t think the article I saw said, but I can look it up,” Lauren said.

“Maybe she was the mastermind,” Harriet suggested.

“I still can’t believe that,” Mavis said. “A person doesn’t change that completely, and your aunt and I have known Jenny for a lot of years.”

“Maybe she got caught up in something she couldn’t control,” Harriet suggested.

“On the other hand,” Lauren said, “she could be a psychopath. They’re always much-beloved members of their community, aren’t they?”

“Even if she was part of the robbery, that doesn’t explain the shooting or her brother being killed,” Harriet said, scooping Scooter up onto her lap.

“She wasn’t with us when Pamela was shot. We were outside waiting for her to get out of the bathroom, and when her tires were slashed, everyone came up after the fact, didn’t they?” Lauren pointed out. “And where was she when her brother was killed?”

“She and Robin were looking for Bobby earlier in the morning, but we’ll have to ask Robin if they were together the whole time until we found him,” Harriet said.

“You can speculate all you want, but I’m reserving judgment until we know the facts,” Mavis said stubbornly. “I’m going to clear these dishes up, and then we better get you to the doctor.”

“I’ll take the dogs out,” Lauren volunteered. “Carter is out in the car on his microwave heating pad,” she said. “I assume Curley is around here somewhere?”

“She’s in her cage in the front room. She’d have eaten Scooter’s breakfast otherwise.”

Lauren opened Harriet’s coat closet and got out Scooter’s leash, and then picked him up from Harriet’s lap before disappearing into the living room to gather up Mavis’s dog.

“Do you really think Jenny could have been involved in all of this?” Mavis asked Harriet when Lauren was outside with the dogs.

“Anything’s possible,” Harriet said. “But I’m with you—there must be something more to this story. I definitely can’t see Jenny killing Pamela, but Lauren’s right. Every time you hear them interview neighbors of killers, they always describe them as normal citizens and profess to be shocked.”

“Can you get dressed by yourself?” Mavis asked, ending the discussion.

“I’ll manage,” Harriet said as she stood up and headed for the stairs.



Lauren was sitting at the kitchen table tapping the keys of her laptop when Harriet came back downstairs. Mavis was wiping the countertops while the dishwasher did its job.

“My client is still busy with their problem,” Lauren announced as she snapped the lid of the computer closed.

“Would you like to come along with Harriet and me,” Mavis asked.

“Sure, why not. I can’t really do anything else until my client either fixes their problem or reschedules.”

“You can keep me company in the waiting room.”

“You’re delusional if you think I was going to try to go in with Harriet while the doctor digs around on her arm.”



Mavis and Lauren were laughing when Harriet came back into the waiting room.

“What did the nurse say?” Mavis asked.

“Not much,” Harriet said a little too nonchalantly.

“She could tell you’ve been overdoing it, couldn’t she.”

“She might have mentioned something about resting more,” Harriet said. “Along with the healing being nonexistent, but that’s mostly because of the infection.”

“Oh, honey, I knew you were doing too much.”

“Would it help if I promised to take it easier now that the festival is coming to an end?”

“It would help…if you’ll do it,” Mavis replied.

“In the spirit of resting Harriet’s arm, is anyone up for a trip to the Steaming Cup before we take her home?” Lauren asked.

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Mavis said. “If Harriet’s up to it,” she added.

“I’m not an invalid,” Harriet muttered. “And I could use a cookie after my visit with Nurse Ratched.”

“If it were true about you not being an invalid, your doctor wouldn’t be telling you your arm isn’t healing,” Mavis said.



Harriet and Mavis were sitting across the table from Lauren, their cups of hot cocoa nearly emptied, when Harriet’s cell phone started ringing. Mavis picked it up off the table and answered.

“This is Harriet’s phone, how may I help you?” she said. Then: “Slow down, honey.” She turned to Harriet and Lauren. “Carla says Wendy is missing.” She turned back to the phone. “Hang up and dial nine-one-one. We’ll be right there.”

She ended the call and handed Harriet her phone, digging in her purse for her keys as she did.

“You two get on your phones and call the rest of the Threads,” she ordered. “And then call Detective Morse.”

She hurried them to her car and drove as fast as the speed limit allowed straight to Aiden’s house.