Arlene Sachitano - Quilt By Association

One more reason to be glad Terry was going to be staying with Carla, she thought as she reached down and patted Randy's head. She led the exhausted dog to the back porch.

"Is it okay if she comes in?” she asked, holding the kitchen door open with her free hand and holding Randy with the other.

Aunt Beth agreed, and she pushed the dog inside and left.

Her phone was ringing as she came from her studio to the kitchen.

"Hello."

"I just missed you at my house,” he said, the fatigue clear in his voice. “Carla told me your phone was broken, and to try this one."

"It is, and it's a long story that can wait until you come home.” Harriet was still holding out hope Neelie would get tired of waiting for Aiden and give up on her scheme.

"You'll be happy to know it'll be sooner rather than later."

"That's great news,” she said. “Were things better than you expected?"

"Unfortunately, they were worse. The team ahead of mine lost a couple of dogs. After we assessed the cases we have left, we talked to the head of the project and convinced him we're better off doing a scoop-and-run."

"A what?"

"Sorry, that's what we call it when we move the patient as quickly as possible as opposed to doing triage and emergency treatment in the field first. Most of these dogs have open sores and infections and need to get to a more sterile environment."

"How are you doing?” she asked.

"I'm fine. I just wish I could say the same for all these dogs. I know hoarding's a disease, but when you see how they've suffered, it makes you want to put the owner in a dirty, crowded room and see how he or she likes it."

"I'm so sorry you have to deal with that."

"Don't feel sorry for me. It's the dogs that need your sympathy."

"I'll ask the Loose Threads and see if anyone needs a pet."

"Don't get them too excited-these will be special-needs dogs. They aren't used to normal human contact. Tell them that, and if they're still interested, they can talk to me. On a more important subject, have you been staying out of trouble while I'm gone?"

"Of course,” she lied. “I've just been stitching quilts and working on quilt blocks for our dog adoption benefit quilts."

"Good, I wouldn't want to have to worry about you on top of everything here. I better go-I just wanted to let you know I'll be back in a day or two. The first temperature-controlled truck is arriving tomorrow, and when we load the last one, I'll head back."

"It's so good to finally talk to you."

Whatever Aiden said was lost in the ether as the connection went abruptly dead.

"Fred, my boy, this is going to get real interesting,” she said to her fuzzy companion.

After playing with Randy in Aiden's perfectly manicured yard she had resolved on her way home to clean out and winterize the modest flowerbeds passed on to her along with the house. Fortunately, Aunt Beth stopped by periodically and pulled weeds or divided plants, since Harriet had a bit of a black thumb where the outdoor plantings were concerned.

She realized she was still holding the phone. She set it back in its cradle and turned to look out the window. A light rain was falling. The tall Douglas fir trees at the head of her driveway glistened with silver drops. Saved! she thought.

Unlike the rest of the northwest, rain wasn't something that could be counted on in Foggy Point. The town sat in the “rain shadow” of the Olympic Mountains, and rainclouds had a tendency to pass right over the area without dropping their load.

She knew she should go work on her dog block but instead went to her computer and opened the email Lauren had sent her.

"Who are you?” she said as Nabirye Obote's image resolved on her screen.

She pressed the white play arrow and watched the entire clip without stopping. Nothing jumped out at her, so she watched it again and again. If Nabirye was, in fact, Neelie's sister, there wasn't a strong resemblance. There was a little similarity around the eyes, but Neelie had a narrow nose where Nabirye's was broad. Both women had full lips, but Neelie's mouth wasn't as wide. Or maybe it was just that she always seemed to have her lips pursed. Nabirye smiled easily in the video, speaking on a topic she was obviously passionate about.

"What am I missing?” Harriet said out loud. She pressed the white arrow again and, this time, forced herself not to look at the woman but at everything else in the scenes.

The action was divided into three parts. The first showed a mud hole. Animals were drinking on one side, and a child was scooping brown water into a plastic bucket on the other. There was nothing to indicate when in time it had been filmed.

The second scene was what Harriet assumed was a clean-water well. It looked like a large metal tray with a pipe, topped by a square metal box. A spout protruded from the side of the larger pipe, spilling clean liquid into a white bucket. Again, nothing that would pin it down to a particular date.

The final scene was in an office of some sort. This was the shortest. She stopped the play at the first full frame. It would have been nice if there had been something as obvious as a newspaper with the current date, or a calendar with the days marked off until today. No such luck.

Harriet printed a copy of her computer screen showing the office. She pulled it from her printer and turned the picture so the image was upside-down. She took another piece of blank paper and laid it over the picture, exposing only the first inch of the image. She searched the picture inch by inch in this manner, and when she was midway down the page she hit pay dirt.

She returned to her computer screen and hit the zoom button. Nabirye stood in front of a table. Under the table was a shipping carton. What appeared to be manufacturing data was printed on the side of the box. While it wasn't conclusive proof, whatever had been in the box had been manufactured or shipped ten days ago.

Given travel time for the package, Nabirye had been alive and appearing in a video a week ago, give or take a day. When you added the time Neelie had been in Foggy Point and the time it would have taken her to make arrangements and travel, it would seem that rumors of Nabirye's death had been greatly exaggerated.

Harriet moved to her cutting table and pulled out the sets of diamonds that were going to be her dog block. She needed to keep her hands busy while she thought about this latest revelation.

An hour passed, and she hadn't made any progress on her dog block, so she decided to put it aside for a while. The shower had provided a light lunch, but that had been hours ago, and she was starting to get hungry. Tico's Tacos could take care of that problem.

Harriet hadn't thought about it before, but she generally got an urge for enchiladas when she needed advice. Jorge Perez not only owned Foggy Point's best Mexican restaurant but was the father of Aiden's closest friend Julio, and had taken over as father figure when Aiden's own father died when he was still in grade school. Jorge was bound to have some insights for her on the subject of Neelie once she'd filled him in on what had been happening.

"Hey, chiquita,” Jorge called from the kitchen as Harriet entered the restaurant. “You alone?"

It was early for dinner, and only two tables were occupied. A teenaged couple sat in the back corner, their heads close, whispering words meant only for each other. A larger group was clustered around two tables that had been pushed together and were laden with an assortment of nachos, quesadillas and taquitos. Probably co-workers on their way home from work, Harriet mused.

"Here we go,” Jorge said a few minutes later as he set a heaping stoneware bowl of freshly made guacamole and a basket of warm tortilla chips on the table at the booth where Harriet was sitting. He slid into the seat opposite her. “Next time you have a party, you let me know, and I'll fix food that will stick to your ribs."