Arlene Sachitano - Quilt As You Go

"I should have never come here,” the woman said again, and dabbed at her eyes.

They had arrived at the restroom, so Harriet had no choice but to leave her and return to the conference room.

"Where'd you go?” Aunt Beth asked when she returned.

Harriet explained her mission of mercy and the information she'd gathered.

"So, it sounds like maybe she didn't know anything about Foggy Point and Gerald's life here."

"That would be my guess,” Harriet said. “She seems way too shaken up, and she's feeling guilty about coming here to boot."

They heard a door open, followed by Mavis and Mike entering the reception area.

"I think we'll all be more comfortable in the conference room,” Mike said and ushered Mavis in. “I'll go get Mrs. VanAuken."

The blonde returned from the restroom, and Mike brought her into the room.

"Mrs. Willis would like to have her friends here with her for support,” he said, turned to Mrs. VanAuken. “Is that okay with you?"

"That's fine,” she said.

"A man has died, and each of you…” He looked first at Mavis then at Mrs. Van Auken. “…has expressed a desire to provide a celebration of his life and to give him a proper burial. I'd like you each to hold on to that fact as we try to understand how you both came to be in this unusual situation."

He proceeded with introductions, and they learned the blonde's name was Ilsa Van Auken, and she had been married to Gerard Van Auken, an American ex-patriot living in the Netherlands, for fifteen years.

Ilsa learned that her husband had not lost his wife of ten years and that their only son, being raised by his wife's sister, was largely fiction.

For the most part, Harriet and Beth kept their own council and let the two shocked women exchange information-tentatively at first and then like two survivors of a natural disaster. When they finally stopped talking, exhaustion clear on both faces, Pastor Mike stood up.

"You two will have a lot to talk about in the coming days, and when you're ready we can move forward with the funeral. Would you each take the hand of the person on either side of you,” he said in his gentle voice. “Let us say a prayer for our brother who is no longer with us."

They bowed their heads and let his soothing words flow over them.

"Where are you staying?” Mavis asked Ilsa when the prayer was over and everyone had gone outside.

"I've been staying in Port Angeles. That's where Gerard's reservation was.” She blushed and looked away for a moment. “I checked the history on his computer when he left and found his maps and reservations and then I followed him. Of course, I didn't stay at the same hotel, but I was nearby. I followed his rental car to Foggy Point the day I arrived, but I lost him. I came every day after that, but I didn't see him again until after he died."

"Can we help you find a place to stay in town?” Aunt Beth asked. “Our friend DeAnn has a couple of guest cottages she rents out. They're empty now that the re-enactment is over."

"That would be nice,” Ilsa said with a sniff.

The women exchanged information and agreed to meet for lunch the following day at the Sandwich Board.

"I called Jenny and told her to hold off on picking the flowers,” Aunt Beth said when they were underway again. “I also called Carla and told her we would stop by and see how she's doing with her new housekeeping plan. I hope that's not going to be too much for you."

"I'm not a shut-in, for crying out loud,” Harriet said as she fumbled with her seatbelt latch.

"Here, let me do that,” Aunt Beth said, and rammed it into its fitting with a satisfying click.

Carla had hot water ready when they arrived and showed them into the downstairs parlor. Randy ran into the room when she heard Harriet's voice and wove between her legs, making little yipping noises until Harriet bent down and scratched her odd little ears.

"How's your arm doing?” Carla asked. “Have they figured out what happened to you?"

"There is no ‘they.’ I didn't report it to the police."

Carla's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't say anything.

"I told her she should call them, but no one listens to me,” Aunt Beth said.

"I've been through this a few times, you know,” Harriet said. “And frankly, telling the police when someone banged me on the head didn't do anything for me-twice."

"Gommy,” yelled a little voice as Wendy came running into the room, launching herself at Aunt Beth when she was close enough.

"How's my girl,” Aunt Beth asked in a high-pitched voice and scooped the child up in her arms, tickling the girl's belly as she did so.

Wendy shrieked in delight.

"Okay if we go find a treat in the kitchen?” Beth asked Carla.

When Carla nodded agreement, Aunt Beth carried her squirming armload out of the room.

"Can I pour you some tea?” Carla asked.

"Sure,” Harriet replied. “I'm having a little trouble with activities like that right now."

"It's no trouble.” Carla picked up a cup, placed a tea bag inside and poured steaming water over it. “Who do you think hit you?” she asked as she handed Harriet the cup.

"I truly have no idea. This whole business with Mavis's husband showing up dead is a real mystery. And I can't figure out what I was doing at the scene of his death that could be interpreted as a threat to anyone."

"So, what did you see while you were out there?” Carla asked and looked intently at her.

"The only thing I remember is the grass had something white and powdery on it. It felt smooth. I'd planned to talk to Darcy and see if that was something the criminalist's had used. I went a little farther and my toe got stuck in a tangled root. I bent down to pull it free, and I saw a blue plastic cylinder. I was about to pick it up for a closer look when something hit my shoulder."

"Do you know what it was?” Carla asked. “Was it a shotgun shell casing? Sometimes those are colored plastic."

"It was about that size, but more solid. It reminded me of some of the plastic creations people made in machine shop when I was in junior high school."

"I thought you went to fancy schools,” Carla said, momentarily distracted.

"I came back here a couple of times for a few months at a whack."

"At least you got to go sometimes,” Carla said.

Harriet was trying to think of the right way to explain how much she cherished her time in Foggy Point and resented all the others, without coming across like a drama queen. She was spared by the appearance of Carla's new friend.

"I hope it's okay that I'm here,” Terry said. “The lady in the kitchen let me in."

"Of course it's okay,” Carla said, her cheeks a little pinker and her eyes a little brighter in response to the new arrival.

"I couldn't help but hear your description of the piece of plastic you found,” Terry said. He was wearing baggy khaki cargo shorts and a form-fitting red T-shirt. “Do you have it with you?"

"No,” Harriet replied. “I was just about to pick it up when I got hit. Why?"

"What you're describing sounds like a sabot. It's a piece of plastic that can be shot out of a shotgun. It can do a lot of damage without leaving a recognizable gunshot wound. Without seeing it, I can't be sure."

"If you don't mind my asking, how do you know that?” Harriet asked.

"I've used something similar,” he said.

"Terry's in the navy,” Carla explained.

"And in the navy you shoot guns filled with plastic?"

"I'm a SEAL-we do a lot of stuff."

It was obvious to Harriet that Terry was well-trained in how to avoid answering questions.

"Can I get you a something to drink?” Carla asked Terry, and when he requested water, she left Harriet alone with her visitor while she went to the kitchen.