Make Quilts Not War (27 page)

Michelle looked toward the stairs again and sighed, but she didn’t move.

Connie had made tea and was passing cups around to the people assembled in Aiden’s living room when Carla’s boyfriend Terry arrived. Terry Jansen was a Navy Seal currently attached to a special investigations unit based at Naval Base Kitsap. He had the sort of job that kept him out of town a good deal of the time, and when he was in town, he couldn’t talk about where he’d been or what he’d been doing. Carla was a good match for him, Harriet mused. Growing up with an abusive, drug-addicted mother, the girl had learned not to ask too many questions.

He strode across the living room and crouched in front of Carla, who was sitting on the sofa between Connie and Mavis.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he said, cupping her face in his hands.

“Find her,” Carla choked out, barely containing her tears.

“Where’s Michelle?” he demanded.

“I think she’s in the kitchen,” Harriet said. “Officer Nguyen told her to stay put, but who knows if she did.”

Terry stood up abruptly and stormed into the kitchen. Harriet jumped up and followed before anyone could stop her.

“Where’s Wendy?” Terry demanded, crossing the room and getting into Michelle’s face.

“I don’t know,” Michelle protested.

He grabbed her, twisted her arm behind her back and pulled it between her shoulder blades, then slammed her into the closed kitchen door.

“Try again,” he hissed.

“You’re hurting me,” she cried.

“I’m not doing anything compared to what’s coming if you don’t tell me where Wendy is—right now.”

“Upstairs,” she choked out.

Lauren came down the servant’s stair into the kitchen, pausing a few steps from the bottom.

“Where upstairs?” Terry demanded and pulled her arm up
higher.

“In the bedroom,” she said in a strained voice. “There’s a door at the back of the closet. It leads to a secret room my mom had put in for us kids.”

Lauren ran upstairs, followed closely by Terry and Harriet. Terry crossed the landing and went up another flight of stairs that led to Aiden’s mother’s office and the spare bedroom on the third floor. He swung the door to the bedroom open, and they could hear the muffled sound of Wendy crying. A moment later, he’d crossed the room, crawled into the closet and emerged with Wendy, who was smiling now she was in Terry’s arms.

“That man attacked me,” Michelle screeched when Terry came into sight of the group assembled in the kitchen. A group that now included Aiden.

“What did you do to my sister?” Aiden demanded, glaring at
the other man.

“Your
sister
stashed Wendy in a dark hidden closet on the third floor. If I hadn’t interrogated her, that baby would still be up there alone and scared while the police were busy sending out Amber Alerts and setting up search teams. Don’t you think you should be asking your sister what she did to an innocent child?”

“She wasn’t hurt,” Michelle yelled. “She was asleep when I put her in the closet. It was just going to be for a little while. Just until everyone noticed her missing, then I was going to go find her—but
he
…” She pointed at Officer Nguyen. “
He
wouldn’t let me go find her. I was supposed to be the one to find her. Not him.” She thrust her finger at Terry.

Aiden slumped against the kitchen counter.

“You kidnapped Wendy just so you could play hero? You terrified Carla, wasted police resources, and interrupted everyone here’s workday so you could get attention for yourself when you found the baby?”

“You always talk about Harriet did this and Harriet did that, and she’s always the hero of the story. I just wanted you to talk about me like that.”

“You are sick,” Aiden said in disgust.

“Let’s hope that’s true,” Detective Morse said, emerging from
the back of the group in the kitchen. “Because, Michelle Jalbert, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Wendy Salter…”

Morse continued the litany of charges and rights, then put
handcuffs on Michelle and turned her over to Officer Nguyen.

“Is that necessary?” Aiden demanded.

“You should be thanking me,” Morse said. “But you seem to
have drunk the same Kool-Aid as your delusional sister. In case you haven’t noticed, this is the third time in a week the police, firemen, paramedics and emergency medical personnel of this town have had to waste precious time and resources because your sister has staged an emergency. This time she’s taken it too far.”

“But she’ll lose her license to practice law,” Aiden said. “Carla, you’re not going to press charges, are you?”

Carla looked up from Wendy, a panicked look on her face.

“She has no choice,” Morse interrupted. “And Dr. Jalbert, losing her license is the least of your sister’s problems. She has been crying out for help. Maybe now she’ll get it. And by the way, you’re very lucky she didn’t accidentally kill herself or anyone else.” Morse looked pointedly at Carla and Wendy. “If I could charge you as an accessory for not stopping her, I would.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Aiden argued. “She attempted suicide, and she assured me she was going to see a therapist—and she really was sick to her stomach. I thought she did have food poisoning.”

“I hope you’re better with sick dogs than you are with sick people,” Morse said and turned her back on him.

“You should call an attorney for your sister,” Harriet said, and watched as he disappeared in the direction of his office.

“Go pack a bag,” Terry said. “You’re not staying here.”

“That’s not necessary,” Aiden protested. “Michelle won’t even be here.”

“That will remain to be seen,” Terry said.

“You and Wendy can stay at our house for a while,” Connie said. “At least come until we find out what will happen to Michelle. Then, if she’s gone, you can decide if you want to come back here or not.”

Carla nodded silently and went upstairs, Wendy clutched to her chest the whole time.

Harriet and Lauren left the kitchen and went into the living room where the rest of the Loose Threads had gathered. Detective Morse joined them a minute later after instructing the remaining police officers as to their final tasks and reports.

“I’m glad you’re all here,” she told them.

“That’s a first,” Lauren said.

“With everything that’s going on, I think you deserve to know something.”

“And what would that be?” Robin asked, assuming her lawyer demeanor.

“You know those men who assaulted you and Jenny Logan?”

“Hard to forget,” Robin said.

“They made bail rather quickly.”

“How quickly?”

“They didn’t even spend one night in jail. In other words, they have friends with deep pockets, the kind of pockets that can get a judge out of bed in the middle of the night to process them.”

“Do you know who paid the bail money?” Harriet asked.

“We don’t,” Morse said. “The check was written on a corporate account for what’s probably a shell company. We don’t have the manpower to look any deeper, out of curiosity. These guys were arrested for simple assault.”

“So, what are you telling us?” Harriet asked. “Are Robin and Jenny in danger?”

“You tell me. None of you seem to know why they attacked you in the first place. Those two ex-cons weren’t sharing, and you-all are equally silent, so I don’t know what to tell you about how much danger any of you are in. All I know is they attacked you once, and they got out real quick. If I were you-all, I’d keep my doors locked and not go anywhere alone or where there aren’t a lot of other people.”

“That’s sort of vague,” Lauren said. “But, hey, thanks. We
weren’t going to figure that one out.”

Morse whirled on her.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is trying to work with you ladies?” she said, her face flushing. “We’ve had two murders, and you’re once again in the middle of it, and once again, you have information you’re unwilling to share. How am I supposed to keep you safe?”

Harriet started to speak.

“Don’t even start with that ‘we can take care of ourselves’ routine.” She looked at Harriet. “You’ve been lucky so far. You could have been killed several times this last year.”

Aunt Beth cleared her throat.

“I can see how you would feel we’ve been less than forthcoming, but this time, we truly don’t know what’s going on.”

Detective Morse took a deep breath and ran her hands through her short blond hair.

“I’m surprised Jenny Logan isn’t with you here,” she said. “Do any of you know where she is?”

The quilters looked at each other.

“With the excitement over Wendy, I didn’t notice she wasn’t here,” Mavis said, giving voice to what Harriet and the others were thinking.

“Who saw her last?” Harriet asked.

The women looked at each other, and one-by-one, each indicated they hadn’t seen her. Harriet pulled her phone out and dialed Jenny’s number.

“Her phone went straight to voicemail,” she reported. She and Lauren shared a look.

“Here’s a perfect example,” Detective Morse said.

“We were just asking ourselves last night if Jenny had a previous relationship with the ex-cons,” Lauren said.

“Diós mio,” Connie said. “Jenny would never consort with those two…thugs.”

DeAnn said she couldn’t believe it, either.

“You might think differently if you knew what we know,”
Harriet said.

“Way to spill it,” Lauren said.

“Spill what?” Morse asked. She looked at Harriet then Lauren then Harriet again. “If you think I won’t arrest you for obstruction, you better think again.”

“This is Jenny’s story to tell, and we haven’t been able to ask her about what we found,” Harriet said. “There may be a perfectly reasonable explanation that has nothing to do with anything that’s happening in Foggy Point this week.”

“Let’s let me be the judge,” Morse said.

“Harriet, if you know anything about what’s going on, you tell her right now,” Aunt Beth ordered. Harriet suspected the real reason her aunt was so adamant was that she was upset Harriet hadn’t told her first, but there hadn’t been time.

“Last night, after everyone else left my house, Lauren and I realized Jenny’s quilt was in Lauren’s car. Jenny’s been acting so weird about her quilt…”

“Define
weird
,” Morse said.

“She stepped past Pamela Gilbert’s body to check on her quilt,” Lauren said. “And she checked on her quilt while other people poured water on Harriet’s flaming arm.”

“Okay, that’s weird. Continue,” Morse said. “You got the quilt out of the car, I presume.”

“So, we spread the quilt out and started examining the burned part and..—”

“For crying out loud,” Lauren blurted. “We found a bunch of money.”

“Define
bunch
,” the detective asked.

“We didn’t take it out and count it,” Harriet said. “We didn’t think we should destroy Jenny’s quilt until we’d talked to her.”

“It looks like the whole quilt is involved, and it’s several layers
thick. My best guess would be fifty thousand per layer, if all the layers go all the way to the edges,” Lauren said.

“I guess we know why the bank robbers were after Jenny,”
Morse said. “You thought she was going to be able to explain away several hundred thousand dollars? Really?”

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” Harriet shot back.

“Let me hear it,” Morse said. “What else are you not telling
me?”

“We’re not real sure after that,” Mavis said. “Jenny told us she’d grown up in a commune, and that her brother had been kicked out for dealing drugs. Then she told us some of his friends had broken into a Selective Service office.”

“After that, when we tried to get her to tell us more, she said her brother was involved in a bank robbery,” DeAnn said.

“Then it was both,” Connie added.

“We’re pretty sure some of that is true, but we all agreed she wasn’t telling us the whole truth,” Harriet said.

Carla came in with Wendy, ending the discussion.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Terry is loading our bags and Wendy’s teddy bear and blankie,” she said.

Connie stood up.

“Time for me to go, then,” she said. “Let us know if you find Jenny.”

Lauren looked at her watch.

“We need to get you home,” she told Harriet. “Or really, we need to get
me
home. I need check in with my client.”

“I’m ready.” Harriet looked around at the groups of people
clustered around Carla, Wendy and Terry, making prolonged goodbyes to Carla and professing their thanks to Terry for producing such a swift resolution to the incident.

“We just need to find Mavis, and we’re out of here.”

Beth and Mavis were standing by the door into the dining room,
deep in discussion. Lauren gestured to Mavis when the older
woman looked up.

“You two ready to go?” Mavis said when she joined them.

“Lauren needs to check with her client,” Harriet said. “I think we’re done here anyway.”

“Beth said she can use Jorge’s truck to bring your booth stuff home. DeAnn is going to take the quilts down and pack the samples.” Harriet started to protest but Mavis cut her off. “Don’t even start. Your arm isn’t healing well, and the sooner you get some rest, the sooner that will change.”