Beth, Mavis and Connie were sitting at the big table at The Steaming Cup, Foggy Point’s other, larger coffee shop, on Monday when Harriet arrived. She unwrapped the knitted scarf from her neck and slid out of her jacket.
“I thought it was supposed to get warmer this week.”
“Go get a hot drink, and you’ll be fine,” Aunt Beth told her.
“I can’t stay too long. Lauren is meeting me here, and after we go to the quilt store to find some fabric for her brother’s quilt, I’ve got to pick up James’s printing. I’ve got time for a quick hot chocolate, though,” she added and headed for the counter.
“I know we can’t expect everyone to be as enthusiastic about our quilts as we are,” Connie said when Harriet returned. “But did anyone else think the shop owners were a little subdued?”
Mavis sipped her tea then set her mug down on the table.
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I thought Mildred would be a little more appreciative. I mean, they get a free quilt out of the deal. She didn’t seem to care what I made for the yarn store or how I hung it, for that matter.”
Harriet stirred the whipped cream into her cocoa.
“Jade is having financial problems at Blood Moon, so I wasn’t surprised when my quilt wasn’t the first thing on her mind, but she did thank me.”
“There are a couple of dominate members on the Business Association committee,” Beth said. “Maybe this whole month of Christmas activities is too much for the smaller businesses, but they were afraid to go against the bigger players. Now, the expense of the extra activities is threatening their survival.” She leaned back in her chair. “Serena’s doing a land-office business at the kitchen store. She’s selling all the quilted tablecloths she and her friends can make, and her shelves are well stocked with kitchen tools, dishes, and cookbooks, and every other possible item that could be associated with a kitchen.”
Connie pulled a plastic zipper bag filled with small prepared hexagons from her purse.
“Jenny and I were talking last night, and she said the jewelry store was so busy she had to stand outside on the sidewalk for the first half-hour before she could go in.”
Mavis looked into her empty cup.
“Busy doesn’t necessarily mean profitable.”
“At the prices Tony charges, he has to be making money,” Harriet observed. “And he has two apprentices now.”
Mavis stood up.
“I’m getting a refill. Anyone want anything?”
“Could you get me a mini-bagel?” Connie asked. “With plain cream cheese.”
Lauren came in and joined Mavis at the counter.
“I’ll take mine to go,” they heard her tell the barista.
Harriet draped her scarf around her neck and put her jacket on.
“Will I see everyone at Pins and Needles tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there,” Beth said.
Connie and Mavis said they would also be attending the Loose Threads meeting the following day. Lauren came to the table, latte in hand.
“Are you ready?”
Harriet smiled.
“If fabric is involved, I was born ready.”
#
Harriet and Lauren left Pins and Needles and headed up the street toward the print shop, a block and a half away.
“Make sure you wash that flannel twice before you use it,” Harriet recommended.
“I read on the internet that you don’t need to wash it since, once it’s quilted in, the stitching will keep it from going anywhere.”
“That hasn’t been my experience. The stitching on functional quilts isn’t dense enough to come into play. Besides, dark-colored flannels can bleed.”
“I don’t have time for a do-over if I don’t get it right the first time, so I will definitely heed your advice. Marjorie suggested I buy a quarter-yard more than I needed for that reason.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to throw a color-catching sheet or two in when you wash the finished quilt, too.”
Lauren shifted her shopping bag from her right hand to her left.
“I can do that.”
Harriet looked across the street to the Outdoor Store.
“Your quilt design is perfect for the store it’s in.”
Lauren grinned.
“I do have my moments.”
The print shop was on the corner of Main Street and Fourth Avenue. Harriet could hear Christmas music playing before she opened the door.
“Daniel must really have his stereo cranked up,” she said as she stepped inside.
Fir garland festooned with large red bows outlined all the interior doors, and a Noble fir sat next to the counter, decorated with samples of personalized ornaments, with your name here in various sizes and scripts, that could be ordered and delivered before the holiday. Large wrapped boxes with oversized bows were stacked at the opposite end of the counter, and a display of photo Christmas cards on the top surfaces had with a discreet sign promising a three-day turnaround time.
“Wow,” Lauren said and surveyed the retail area of the shop. “Looks like he caught the Christmas spirit after the quilt unveiling.”
“Daniel,” Harriet called out. “Are you here?”
Lauren crossed the room, reached over the counter to the boom box responsible for the music, and pushed the off button. In the silence that followed, Harriet heard the rhythmic thunking of a large printer.
“Daniel!” she tried again. “Anyone home?”
“He must not be able to hear over the machines,” Lauren said and lifted a hinged section of the counter. “After you,” she said, and waved Harriet through.
Harriet started through the swinging door that led to the production area and stopped abruptly, running into Lauren as she backed up. She felt the blood leave her face, making her dizzy. She staggered to Daniel’s desk chair and collapsed.
“Call nine-one-one,”
Lauren pulled her phone from her pocket.
“What?” she asked as she dialed.
Harriet took a deep breath.
“Daniel is…” She took another breath and started again. “Daniel is hanging from the rafters in there.”
“We need the police,” Lauren said into her phone. “We’re at the Print Shop, Four-oh-five Main Street, and there’s been an accident.”
“I don’t think it was an accident,” Harriet said when Lauren had finished the call.
“Are you sure it’s Daniel?”
“Whoever it is, is tall, skinny, and wearing an apron with the shop logo on the front.”
“Sounds like Daniel.”
They heard sirens almost immediately, and within minutes two paramedics followed by Officer Hue Nguyen came into the shop.
Harriet pointed.
“He’s in there.”
The paramedics rushed into the back room while Officer Nguyen stopped beside Harriet’s chair. He looked at the two women and shook his head.
“What happened?”
“I came to pick up James’s printing,” Harriet said in a rush.
Nguyen looked from her to Lauren.
“What she said. We came to pick up tickets and menus. We couldn’t find Daniel, but we heard the printers running. We started to go into the back, but as soon as Harriet opened the door, she saw Daniel hanging from the rafters, so we backed up and called you.”
Nguyen tapped his pen on his notebook.
“And you didn’t go back in for a look?” He asked Lauren.
“No, I did not. This may come as a surprise, but some of us do not enjoy looking at dead people and, in fact, avoid it at all costs.”
“And Detective Morse has lectured us on how not to contaminate a crime scene,” Harriet added.
Nguyen closed his notebook.
“It’s not a crime scene yet,” he said. “If he’s really hanging, as you say, it’s likely a suicide.”
If he’s really hanging? Harriet thought. Seriously? Did Nguyen think a person could make a mistake about something like that?
Lauren glared at the man.
“Do people often mistake a man hanging from the rafters for something else, in your experience?”
“If you only glanced, as you say, maybe it wasn’t a man hanging from the rafters.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Harriet said, her voice rising. “Don’t you think the paramedics would be back out here if it was just a dummy or an I-don’t-know-what hanging from his rafters?”
“Calm down. I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that, once again, we have a dead person in Foggy Point, and once again, you are the one to find him.”
“Maybe you can wrap your head around the fact that in every single one of those cases, we—myself, Lauren, my aunt and all of the Loose Threads—had nothing to do with the murders that took place. I moved to Foggy Point thinking it was a nice, safe small town.”
Nguyen gave her a grim smile.
“And strangely, it was just that until you moved back.”
Lauren stiffened.
“Oh, so, now Harriet is responsible for all the crime in Foggy Point?”
Nguyen’s face turned red, but he was kept from further comment by one of the paramedics’ coming through the door from the press room. She was a short, blonde woman Harriet had encountered before.
“I think we’re going to need the medical examiner for this one. I’m sure it will turn out to be just what it looks like—a suicide…”
“But?” Nguyen prompted her.
The woman chewed her lip before answering.
“There are a couple of small things that may be nothing, but I’d like someone who knows more than I do about this sort of situation to take a look.”
“Do I need to call the detectives?”
“They can’t come into the scene until the medical examiner releases it, but it might not hurt to give them a heads-up. I called the ME already, but it will take her a little while to get here.”
“Thanks,” he said then turned back to Harriet and Lauren. “You two stay right here.”
With that warning, he went outside to his car to make his calls.