Arlene Sachitano - Quilter's Knot

"I was sure Patience said you were a botanist."

"She probably did. My mom and Patience were obsessed with quilting and this school. I told them a hundred times what I did, and it just went in one ear and out the other. They didn't really listen unless I said something about this school. My own mother couldn't have told you what I did before I came here. I mean, she had a vague knowledge that I graduated from architecture school, but beyond that, not so much."

"Okay, I guess I'll see you later,"

"Wait a minute.” He came around the counter and stood toe-to-toe with her. “You think I poisoned my mom, don't you?"

Harriet felt heat creep up her neck to her cheeks. “When Patience said you had a degree in botany, it sort of fit. Who better to condense a poisonous plant than a botanist?” She smiled an embarrassed smile.

"If this weren't so ridiculous I'd be insulted.” He clasped her arms just below her shoulders, but before she got to find out what more he was about to say, the door to the office banged open and Aiden appeared.

"Oh, geez, not you again,” Tom growled.

"Stop!” Harriet ordered.

"Get your hands off her."

"Aiden, stop-he didn't do anything. We're just talking."

"It doesn't look like ‘just talking’ from here. Your face is red, and he's got his hands on you again."

Tom dropped his hands and stepped back.

"We just had a misunderstanding,” Harriet explained. “Not that it's any of your business. You're not my bodyguard."

"Somebody needs to be."

"Come on, let's not do this again."

He continued to glare at Tom.

"What I need from both of you is help,” she said. “Lauren's missing."

"Didn't we already know that?” Aiden asked.

"We knew she was dodging the police, but I think she's really missing now.” She explained her observation of Les, who had obviously expected to find Lauren in the equipment garage, leaving out the part about her and Carla tailing him.

"What do you need from me?” Tom asked.

"I'd like to search the grounds. Not the classrooms but any other outbuildings that might make good hiding spots. I hoped you could identify those places and maybe let us into buildings if they're locked. And if either of you is going into Angel Harbor this afternoon, I'd like to check out Lauren's brother's apartment. She said she'd been staying there but wasn't going to anymore, but I'd still like to check just to be sure."

"You don't ask for much, do you?” Tom said.

"I know, and I'm sorry for what I said earlier, but I'm really starting to worry about Lauren."

Tom looked at his watch. “I have to go meet with a guy about security. The soonest I could look for Lauren would be around one o'clock."

"I have to go, too. I was just stopping by on my way to the hospital. I've got two more hours of surgery when I get back. I can come back after that-probably around two or two-thirty.” Aiden took the key to the rental car from his pocket. “Should I meet you back here?"

"Sure, thanks.” Lauren could be dead by then, but sure, she thought.

"I can check Les's apartment when I go into Angel Harbor,” Tom offered. “I'm not a breaking and entering kind of guy, but I'll knock and see if anyone answers."

"Okay, I guess that's better than nothing."

"We could tell Detective Ruiz our concerns and let him search for Lauren,” Tom said. “If you really think she's in danger, that might be the best thing to do."

"Detective Ruiz believes Lauren killed your mother. Somehow, I don't think he's going to be concerned about her welfare."

"I just wanted to put it out there,” Tom said with a sigh. “I've got to go. I'll see you later.” He nodded at Aiden and left the office as Nancy came back in.

Aiden walked Harriet back to the Tree House. “I still don't like that guy, but he does have a point about calling the police."

She stopped in the middle of the path. “Detective Ruiz wants to put Lauren in jail. With her attitude and big mouth, she's liable to resist arrest and end up in jail even though she didn't do anything."

"Okay, I guess I'll be back for the big search, then."

Harriet went up the steps to the Tree House without looking back.

Mavis, Connie and Carla were seated at the dining table when Harriet came in. Fat quarters of fabric, the quilters name for a half-yard of material that has been cut in half to make two eighteen-by-twenty-two-inch squares, sat in color-coordinated piles on the table top. Each pile had a swatch of the background fabric they'd been given for the memorial quilts next to it.

"Have you got it figured out?” she asked as she joined them.

"Not quite,” Mavis admitted, “but we're getting there. We need a green option. Do you have anything with you that we could try?"

"I have a Kelly green piece with my half-rectangle stuff. Let me go get it.” She dropped the envelope with the fax from Aunt Beth on the table and went upstairs, coming back down a few minutes later with her canvas project bag on her arm. She pulled out a handful of green fabric and laid it next to the nearest pile of fabric.

"Hmmm,” Mavis said. “This might work."

"Help yourself, I've got plenty."

"What did Beth send?” Connie asked.

"I don't know. I haven't even looked."

Mavis stopped moving piles of fabric and looked at Harriet over the top of her reading glasses.

"You haven't looked?"

Harriet explained about Tom being in the office and Aiden's arrival. Connie picked up the envelope and handed it to her.

"So, let's find out."

There were several pages in the packet. The first was a cover sheet and the second a handwritten note from Beth.

I called the museum and said I was interested in commissioning a quilt that would be similar to the copy of Lauren's. I asked if they could take a couple of pictures, including one of the quilt label. I thought you might find that one useful. I asked for more information about the artist and I've included what they sent me. Let me know if you need anything else."

It was signed, Beth .

Harriet pulled the pictures out and found the one of the label.

"Whoa,” she said and began reading. “ Wildwood , created by Patsy Jackson in September 2007 in Angel Harbor, Washington, USA."

"Who the heck is Patsy Jackson?” Mavis asked.

"Let me see here.” Harriet flipped through the papers and pulled one to the top. “'Patsy Jackson is a teacher who comes to England four times a year to do workshops at the guild. She lives in Angel Harbor, Washington, and has been doing fiber arts for twenty-five years.’ There's a handwritten addition that says they've been handling her work for five years and have many satisfied customers who would be willing to provide recommendations. It goes on to say that, for the protection of their artists, they don't give out phone numbers or addresses, but would be happy to have Mrs. Jackson contact Aunt Beth if she decided to go forward with her commission."

"I don't remember seeing a Patsy Jackson offering classes here,” Mavis said.

"Me, either,” Connie agreed. “I wonder what she teaches."

"Maybe she doesn't teach here,” Harriet said and flipped through the papers again. “It only says she teaches in England. She lives in Angel Harbor, but it says nothing about her teaching here."

"How could she live here and be a quilt teacher and not teach at the Folk Art Center?” Connie asked.

"Politics, maybe,” Mavis offered. “The question is, how did she get access to Lauren's quilt in order to copy it?"

"Maybe she's a student here,” Carla suggested.

"Good point,” Harriet said, and Carla blushed. “Or maybe more than one person is in on it. Maybe she has a partner here. How else could you explain the obvious copying that Carla and I saw? Maybe Patsy and Selestina did it together."