Arlene Sachitano - Quilter's Knot

"Sure, what do you need?"

He pulled her closer. “The police talked to me before you got here. I told them someone had hit my truck and sent us over the edge. I don't know if they believe me. They said people don't do stuff like that in broad daylight where anyone could have seen them. I know my truck didn't run off the road because of water on the road like they're saying. I don't care what they think-someone ran me off the road. They rammed me twice."

"What do you want me to do?” Harriet asked, unsure where this was going.

"I saw the vehicle. I couldn't see who was driving, but it was a black Ford Explorer."

She still wasn't connecting the dots.

"Just like the ones I saw parked at your school. I want you to see if any of them have damage or white paint on their front fender or bumper. Don't confront anyone, just look and tell me what you see. Can you do that?"

"Sure. There have to be lots of black Ford Explorers, though. Not just at the school."

"Indulge me,” he said.

She would check, but she was already thinking about the car that had taken her to dinner.

Darcy arrived before they could discuss it further. The B &B was less than a mile from the hospital, the house lemon-yellow with lots of the white lacy gingerbread Victorian houses are known for. The front garden was English and surrounded by a white picket fence. Darcy held the gate open, and Harriet guided Aiden into the yard and then onto the wide porch.

The foyer continued the Victorian theme. A collection of Blue Willow plates were displayed on a lace-edged shelf around the perimeter of the room. A blue floral pitcher and bowl sat on a lace doily on top of a dark cherry bookshelf.

Helen turned out to be a plump woman whose long white hair was twisted into a simple bun on the top of her head. She wore a faded floral shirt-dress topped with a white apron. Her beige shoes were the type nurses and other people who spend a lifetime on their feet sported. She assured Harriet she would treat Aiden as if he were one of her own-he seemed to bring out the mothering gene in women of all ages, even when he didn't have a black eye.

"I expect he'll be just fine, but I'll call you if anything happens,” she said. She'd gathered all the relevant phone numbers when they'd arrived.

"We do have a house full of doctors, you know,” Aiden reminded them.

"That would be great if you were a dog,” Harriet teased. “Oh, wait, you are,” she added, and grinned.

"Very funny. I'm supposed to be getting sympathy here."

"Enough,” Helen said. “You go get in your jammies, and I'll bring you a nice cup of tea and some toast."

"Hey, I hit my head, not my stomach,” Aiden protested as Helen put her arm around his waist and turned him to the stairs.

"He'll be fine,” she said, and waved over her shoulder as she followed him up.

Harriet sat in silence as Darcy drove back to the school.

"Could you stop by the office parking lot before we go back to the Tree House?” she asked when they turned into the main driveway. She quickly explained Aiden's request.

"Sure.” Darcy pulled onto the shoulder a few feet before the office lot. “Let me get a couple of things from the trunk. If we find something I'll take a couple of samples, just in case. Even if we do find something, we may not be able to get any kind of evidence that proves anything."

"Thanks for doing this. Aiden seemed pretty sure it was one of the Explorers from here."

They walked up to the row of cars. The lot could hold eight, but only six were currently there: a Volvo station wagon, a small sedan of some sort, and four black Explorers. They stepped carefully to the front of the lot and, one-by-one, examined the cars.

"Make sure you go all the way around,” Darcy whispered. “Sometimes the point of contact isn't where you think it will be. And don't touch anything."

She looked at the first car, and Harriet took the second. Both were free of scars. They returned to the front of the row and started toward the next two.

"We just hit the jackpot,” Darcy said. “I can see it from here.” Harriet came to stand beside her. “Geez, it's not subtle, is it."

Darcy moved closer to the front passenger-side fender. A large dent creased the shiny metal. Or maybe it was shiny plastic; Harriet was never sure these days. Darcy pulled a plastic bag from her pocket, broke it open and removed what looked like a scalpel. She took a small white envelope from her other pocket and scraped the dent, catching the shavings in the envelope. She sealed it and put it back in her pocket.

There wasn't a license plate on the front of the vehicle, so Harriet went around to the back. TomTom the vanity plate read. She got a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"I'll get a sample of the remains of the truck Aiden was driving and I can do the lab work when I get back to Foggy Point, but you do realize it won't be official, don't you? I mean, there won't be any chain of custody. And I'm not officially on the job. On the other hand, maybe this will help convince those yahoo's at the police station Aiden didn't just hydroplane off the road."

"I don't want to chance losing the evidence that Aiden was pushed-he thinks the police are pretty willing to write their report and close the books on the whole incident. I'd like to be sure that doesn't happen, whether it's official at this point or not. Besides, I may know who did it, anyway."

"And who would that be, Miss Marple?"

"Look at the vanity license plate."

"It's TomTom. Does that mean something?"

"Selestina's son is Thomas Bainbridge, and I happen to know he drives a black Ford Explorer. It fits, doesn't it?"

"Solving crimes is rarely that neat. You need a few things like means, motive and opportunity."

"I watched one of those reality crime shows with Aunt Beth, and they said you don't have to prove motive. They said juries like to hear a motive, but you didn't have to have one."

Darcy led the way back to the car, and they continued the conversation as she drove to the Tree House parking lot.

"Well, the cops I hang out with like to have a theory of the crime. So far, I'm hearing that an upstanding member of the local business community jumps in his car and runs a visiting veterinarian off the road for no apparent reason. Their only connection is that you're friends with one guy and you've-what?-met the other one?"

"I did go to dinner with Tom the other night,” Harriet confessed.

"Are you that good?” Darcy asked with a smile. “You want me to believe that after one dinner Mr. Bainbridge tried to kill Aiden?"

"Okay, so there are a few holes in my theory. I'm just saying, on the one hand-black Ford Explorer, vanity plate that says TomTom,” She held her hands up as if holding an invisible ball in each hand. “On the other, a man named Tom who drives a black Ford Explorer."

Darcy parked and turned to face her, her pixie's face serious. “I'll do your tests for you, but, Harriet, if someone did run Aiden off the road you need to let the police handle it. And if we show them this evidence, they will. This is nothing to mess around with. And just in case you are on to something, stay away from Thomas Bainbridge."

"Okay, okay,” Harriet held her hands up in defense. “Aiden asked me to check, and I did. Besides, I've got more than I can handle trying to figure out what's up with Lauren's quilt."

"Speaking of that, did you get the pictures from your aunt?"

Harriet patted the pocket of her sweatshirt. “Right here,” she said, and got out of the car. “Let's go look at them with the rest of the group."

"I'll be there in a minute. I've got a few calls to make."

"How's Aiden?” Robin asked as soon as Harriet came into the Tree House. She was in the kitchenette arranging lemon-ginger cookie crisps on a blue pottery plate. She was always the first person in line for treats, but somehow the last to show the effects of eating them. It had to be all the yoga, Harriet decided.