Arlene Sachitano - The Quilt Before The Storm

“I am a man of many secrets,” Jorge said with a knowing smile and scooped his spicy chili into ceramic bowls. “The grated cheese, sour cream and green onions are on the dining table with honey and butter for the bread,” he said.

“This is fabulous,” Harriet said as she took the bowl he handed her and made her way to the other room.

Everyone agreed, if the subsequent empty dishes were any indication.

Aunt Beth and Mavis insisted on washing the dishes, leaving Harriet and Lauren to sip their after-dinner tea in front of the fireplace in the living room. Jorge went outside to bring more firewood into the garage to dry, a task made more difficult by the elderly electric door opener needing to be operated manually using a temperamental pull cord.

“So, who do you think did it?” Lauren asked without preamble. “I mean, you were there. You must have some idea.”

Carter was in his usual position with only his head peeking out from her sweatshirt.

“I’m trying not to think about it,” Harriet admitted.

“How’s that working for you?”

“Not too well, actually.”

“That’s what I thought. I think you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

“I’m sure you do,” Harriet said with a sigh. She pondered the bottom of her teacup for a few minutes, but no answers were revealed there, so she finally spoke. “There are quite a few possibilities, and no real way to sort them.”

“You said the truck-driving couple were in the same bathroom, right?” Lauren mused. “Seems like that would be too obvious, though.”

“Sometimes the simple answer is the right one,” Harriet cautioned.

“What about the unknown couple?”

“That’s all they said-a man and his companion who left first thing in the morning. I get the feeling that transient visitors aren’t unusual at the camp.”

“Who else should we consider?” Lauren asked. “Didn’t you say Joyce went to sleep for a while?”

“Yeah. She and Ronald both say they were asleep for portions of the night. And Brandy was ‘out of it,’ but I’m not sure exactly what that means. I don’t know if she was passed out or merely uncooperative. In any case, no one can say what she was doing when the others were asleep.”

“I wonder if Darcy and her bunch will be able to determine the time of death when they’re finally able to get here.” She meant crime scene investigator and sometime Loose Thread Darcy Lewis.

“The real question is, where is Darcy?” Harriet sat up in her chair. “If she’s trapped in town like us, maybe we can get Tom to fetch her to the crime scene.”

“What do you suggest? Smoke signals?”

“Let’s see if we can figure out where she lives.” Harriet got up from her chair.

“You might as well give me the dogs before I come in. I can’t get any wetter.” Jorge called from the kitchen.

Lauren handed a frightened looking Carter to him as Mavis snapped leashes onto the collars of Pamela and Curly.

“Who are you trying to find,” Aunt Beth asked when Harriet asked where she might find a phone book.

Harriet had lived in the house for most of a year, but she still didn’t know where everything was.

“We were wondering where Darcy lives, and if she’s around. Officer Nguyen said he hasn’t been able to reach anyone. He seemed pretty overwhelmed before we told him about Duane. He might not have called Darcy yet,” Harriet explained.

“We know he didn’t call her,” Lauren said. “Unless she has a satellite phone. But maybe he knows where she lives.”

“I can tell you that,” Aunt Beth answered. “She lives in one of those duplexes on the other side of Miller Hill.”

It might as well be a continent away, given the conditions , Harriet thought.

“Well, it was a good idea,” she said. “We were thinking there won’t be much forensic evidence by the time the power is back and the roads are clear.”

“I’m sure the scene has pretty well been contaminated by now anyway,” Mavis said. “I’ll bet everyone in the homeless camp has been in there to look.”

“You’re probably right.”

Lauren picked up her radio and began winding the crank on its side. After a minute, she stopped and turned the radio on.

“Shhh,” she said, even though no one was speaking. “Listen.”

She turned up the volume, and a scratchy voice came from the small speaker.

“What was that?” Mavis asked. “What did they say about water?”

“We have to boil it,” Lauren translated and clicked the radio off with a snap.

“Great,” Harriet said.

“You should be grateful,” Aunt Beth scolded. “At least we have a gas stove to boil water with.”

“Yeah, as long as the propane lasts,” Harriet shot back.

“What was that about the propane?” Jorge asked. He’d just come in from outside, Pamela and Curly on their leashes, Carter held in one large hand. “Everyone did their business,” he said as the women took their respective pets from him. Water ran in rivers down his face, dripping from his dark hair onto the collar of his raincoat. “Boy, it’s raining to beat the band out there.”

“Did you see Aiden this morning?” Harriet asked him.

“No, I’ve been here all day,” he said as Aunt Beth brought him a towel to dry his hair and Mavis took his wet coat and carried it off, presumably to hang it on a chair in front of the fire.

“He didn’t come to the house around the time I left?” Harriet pressed.

“No. Why do you think that?”

“As Tom and I were driving away, I looked back, and he was coming out of the woods at the end of the street.”

“Oh,” Jorge said. “I’m sure that didn’t please him-seeing you drive away.”

“Probably not,” Harriet said.

“I don’t like him being stuck with that sister of his all this time. She is not a good influence on the boy.”

“Me, either, but there’s not much I can do about it. He won’t talk to me.”

“That Michelle is up to no good,” Jorge said.

“Yeah, but what can we do about it?”

“Maybe the roads will be clear enough for us to pay a visit over there tomorrow. In the meantime, there’s nothing you can do about it.” He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Let’s go play cards,” he said. “Come on, Blondie, you, too.” He looked over his shoulder at Lauren.

Aunt Beth and Mavis declined the offer of cards and took one of the oil lamps to Harriet’s studio. They said they were going to sit in front of the window and see if they had enough light to work on their hand-stitching projects for a while.

“Do you ladies know how to play a game called scat?” Jorge asked.

Harriet and Lauren shook their heads.

“You are in for a treat, my friends,” he said and ushered them toward the living room. “We can pull that little table in front of the fire and play where it is warm.” He indicated a low coffee table.

Lauren brought the candelabrum from the dining room and relit the candles after setting it on the table.

“Okay, big guy, show us how it’s done,” Lauren said and sat down across the table from Jorge.

Harriet had lost all her pennies and Lauren was down to one when someone knocked on the front door.

“Who could that be?” Harriet wondered. “No one comes to the front door.”

“One way to find out,” Lauren said and started to get up, but Jorge beat her to it and opened the door to discover Carla and Wendy.

“Come in, niñas,” he said. He took Wendy from Carla and helped the toddler slip out of her wet jacket. “It still rains very hard out there.” He shook his head. “We are not out of the forest yet, ladies.”