Harriet looked out the front and then the side window as James drove into his mother’s neighborhood.
“Gosh, this reminds me of some of the villages in the Netherlands. You don’t usually see such steeply pitched roofs in this climate.”
James looked around as if seeing it for the first time.
“I guess that was the idea. It’s one of those planned deals. We lived in an old Victorian like everyone else when I was growing up. They finally got tired of taking care of such a big old place. This is their downsize house.”
“They must have a great view of the docks and beyond.”
James turned the car into a sloped driveway and parked.
“Let’s go in, and you can see.” He got out and opened the side door of the van, and pulled out an insulated box. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m trying out a new recipe. My mom is always my most honest critic, so it has to pass her first.”
Harriet got out, and James led the way up six steps to the front door, which opened as they reached the landing.
“Hi, you must be Harriet.” James’s mother was a slender woman with graying sandy hair and blue eyes. She wore blue jeans with a cotton blouse topped by a linen V-necked sweater. She held her hand out, and Harriet shook it.
“Nice to meet you.”
“James has told me a lot about you. Sounds like you’ve had your fair share of trouble since you moved back to Foggy Point. I’m Kathy, by the way. Here, let’s sit in the front room while James fusses in the kitchen.”
She led the way to a sitting room to the right of the front door while James went the opposite direction, presumably to the kitchen.
“Your home is beautiful,” Harriet said. “I was just telling James I didn’t even know about this neighborhood. It reminds me of Europe.”
“That was the developer’s idea. His plan is to ‘gentrify’ this old industrial part of Foggy Point. Up until two years ago, this whole block was some sort of ship repair yard. It hadn’t been in business for more than ten years. The houses are all built to green standards and also for aging in place. There are two stories, but the second pantry in the kitchen is wired to be converted into an elevator if that becomes necessary.”
“He did a great job, and your view is spectacular.”
“Thank you. Now, James said you had some questions for me.”
Harriet explained how DeAnn’s sister had come to town and was anxious to figure out what had happened to her.
“DeAnn told her about some of the unfortunate situations we’ve run into since I’ve been back, and now her sister thinks our quilting group is some-how going to be able to solve a mystery the police have been working on for twenty years.”
“My friend Lois lived on the same street where that other little girl went missing. I guess your friend’s sister lived on that street, too. Of course, it was all in the paper, but most of the attention was on the other girl—Amber, I think, was her name.
“I called Lois when James said you were interested in what happened. We don’t know anything that wasn’t in the newspaper, but I can tell you Lois never thought that man Leo did it. It was disgraceful how they crucified him, and all along he had an alibi, if I remember right.
“Anyway, Lois and I have no proof, but we always suspected another neighbor—Gary Alexander. He had been in prison for domestic battery and had just returned. His wife took him back. He took anger management classes while he was in prison. Of course, he beat her again, and I think he went back to prison; but that’s another story, and it happened years later.”
“Is there evidence to suggest he was involved with the little girls?”
Kathy sighed.
“Not really. Lois just didn’t like him. I suppose Amber’s dad could be a possibility. The parents’ marriage didn’t last more than a year after she went missing, if they were ever married in the first place. He never was around before she went missing, so maybe they weren’t. I’ve read articles that say it’s not all that unusual for the family of a missing child to fall apart afterward.”
“I’ll tell my friend Lauren about both possibilities. She’s a computer whiz. If there’s anything about either of those guys in the public record or anywhere else on the Internet, she’ll be able to find it.”
“I wish I could tell you more. Lois said her neighborhood was pretty average. Everyone kept their yards nice. No one had wild parties or anything. Once a year, they had a block party, and she said up until Amber disappeared, everyone went. Of course, Leo moved away, and Sandra didn’t participate for a few years, but Lois says she eventually started coming again.”
“Like I was saying before, if the police couldn’t come up with anything in twenty years, I don’t know what Molly expects a bunch of quilters to do. We’re trying because she’s DeAnn’s sister, but I’m not holding out much hope.”
“I wish I had more to tell you, but Lois really didn’t know anything.”
“What was Foggy Point like back then? I was mostly in boarding school, so I don’t really have a lot of memories.”
“You were a child in any case. Well, it was smaller…”
Kathy entertained Harriet with stories of Foggy Point twenty years before. She got out a scrapbook to illustrate her tales. Before Harriet knew it, an hour had passed.
She pointed to a picture.
“James is so cute in his little baseball uniform. How old was he?”
Kathy looked at the ceiling while she thought.
“He must have been five, maybe. He was always into sports. As you might have guessed, you could have knocked his dad and I over with a feather when he turned down a full-ride sports scholarship to go to culinary school. Speaking of his dad, you’ll have to come back another time when my husband isn’t off fishing with his cronies.”
“I heard that crack about culinary school,” James said as he came across the entry hall and into the living room. “Your dinner is served.”
Harriet sniffed.
“It smells good, whatever it is.”
He made a deep bow and gestured with a broad sweep of his arm, directing them to the kitchen.
“This way, Madame et Mademoiselle. Since we are a small party tonight, dinner will be served in the small dining room.”
Kathy led the way.
“James is trying to tell you we’re eating in the kitchen nook.”
“What are we having?” Harriet asked.
“We are having my first attempt at Frogmore stew,” James told her.
Harriet and Kathy looked at each other.
“I can tell by your confused looks that you don’t know what Frogmore stew is. Let me enlighten you.” He pulled out first his mother’s chair then Harriet’s as he spoke. “Frogmore stew is a classic Low Country South Carolina dish also known as a Low-country boil or Beaufort stew. Basically, it has shrimp, corn on the cob, new potatoes and, in my recipe, hot sausage and a bunch of secret spices.” He smiled. “I’m hoping to add it to my summer menu once a week. If the shrimp hold up, I’ll be able to use Puget Sound-caught shrimp, and that will be a big draw.”
He placed a basket of breads in the middle of the table and got a dish of butter from the refrigerator. He served the two women then watched their reactions as they took their first bites. Only when they smiled and gave him a thumbs-up did he sit and serve himself.
Harriet leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath.
“That was so delicious. I ate way more than I should have.”
“Thanks,” James said. “I was pretty sure it would be a hit, but you never know.”
A distinctive chime sounded from Harriet’s pocket.
“Excuse me for a moment. This is my aunt.” She stood up and went into the functional part of the kitchen as she answered her phone.
“Aunt Beth?”
A man spoke. She felt the blood drain from her face. James came over and took her free arm, leading her back to her chair.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she’d ended her call.
“It’s my aunt. There’s been some sort of accident.”
Kathy stood up.
“Go, take her to her aunt. I’ll clean up here. Call me when you know something.”