The next morning, Harriet dressed the dogs in their coats and took them out to walk in the grassy area inside her circular driveway. The snow had begun to melt, so islands of green poked through the white crust. Connie pulled up as the dogs jumped from island to island, finally completing their business as she and Beth got out of the car. Mavis pulled in behind them.
“I hope it’s okay I’m joining the party,” she said as she got out of her car.
“The more the merrier,” Harriet said as she tried to keep the dogs from jumping on her visitors. “Let me get these guys in the house, and then I’m ready to go.”
Mavis carried two large shopping bags over to Connie’s car.
“I went to the Costco in Sequim yesterday, and I was getting some of their baked chickens to put in the freezer for when the kids come, and I thought I’d get a couple for the homeless camp.”
Harriet slid into the back seat and rested James’s brownies in her lap.
“That’s a good idea. All we’re bringing them is sugary treats.”
Connie moved a tissue box off the front seat so Beth could get in. “Hey, they need their treats, too.”
Beth held up her box. “I’m bringing food for their soul—Christmas lights.”
“That’s nice, too,” Mavis said. “So, tell me, how did picture night go?”
They discussed the pictures and the fire that followed. Mavis crossed her arms over her chest.
“What is going on in our town?”
Beth shook her head.
“I wish I knew.”
Joyce Elias was sitting in the common area with long-time camp resident Max and two people Harriet had never seen before.
“This is all so wonderful of you,” Joyce said.
Beth handed her the Christmas lights. “Jorge thought you might like to decorate for the holiday.”
Joyce’s face lit up in a broad grin. “This is wonderful. We have a tree back here…” She pointed down the trail. “…but we don’t have much to decorate it with.”
She led them back to the main trail and then off to the left to a small clearing that surrounded a blue spruce tree. Several hand-carved deer hung from the branches, along with foil stars that were made from salvaged food wrappers.
“This is festive,” Harriet said.
Joyce held her hands out. “We try.”
Max led them back to the common area.
“Let’s get our treats stashed before the animals come snooping around.”
Harriet handed him the package of brownies.
“These are from James.”
“And these are from Costco,” Mavis said, handing him the bags of chicken.
Connie set her box of cookies on the wooden table.
“Carla and I made cookies for you. And Wendy decorated them.”
“Could we convince you to stay for a cup of coffee and a cookie?” Joyce asked.
Harriet was starting to get cold, but she knew it was important they accept the hospitality.
“I think we have time for one cup.”
Max fetched a large coffeepot from the edge of the fire pit where it was keeping warm and set it on the table, while Joyce opened a storage box and brought out pottery mugs and plates. Harriet examined her mug when Max filled it with coffee and handed it to her.
“These are really nice.”
Joyce smiled.
“They are nice. The pottery group at the Angel Harbor Folk Art School made them for us.”
“They made us plates, too,” Max added. “We’re living in tall cotton these days.”
Connie started the box of cookies around.
“Carla would like feedback on the cookies, if you would care to give it. She’s developing some of her own recipes. I think she has it in her mind to write a cookbook if people like them.”
Joyce asked after everyone’s families as they ate their treats and drank the coffee. Harriet was surprised at how good the coffee was, give it had been brewed over an open fire. She savored it before setting her mug on the table.
“Did you ever find Smokey Joe?”
Joyce frowned. “It’s strange, now that you ask. We haven’t seen him, but Max has checked on his camp—”
“He lives on the outer edge of our territory,” Max interjected.
“And it appears he’s been staying in his tent,” Joyce continued.
“Is that usual?” Mavis asked.
“Yes, and no,” Joyce answered. “He’s not as social as Max and I, for instance, but he does come around at mealtimes, usually.”
Max’s bushy white eyebrows drew together.
“There has been food missing from the box. About the amount a man might eat. Of course, we don’t lock the box, so anyone in camp can help themselves any time. It’s just we haven’t seen anyone doing so. Most people eat at our usual meal times.”
Joyce carried the coffeepot around and topped off everyone’s mug.
“I guess what we’re saying is we think he’s around, but we haven’t seen him. I can’t imagine who else it would be, if not him. I’m just not sure why he’s not showing himself.”
Max shook his head. “Can you not think of why he might be in hiding?”
Joyce set the coffeepot back on the fire.
“Just because he’s had trouble in his past, there’s no reason to think he does now. He told me he left all that behind a long time ago, and I believe him.”
Joyce stared at Max, and Harriet waited until they broke the stare.
“What sort of trouble are we talking about?”
Max looked at Joyce before speaking.
“Joe was married to a gold-digging tart, and when he wouldn’t or couldn’t keep her in the style she wanted to become used to, she was done with him. She got a shyster lawyer and took him to the cleaners. They lived in a house that had been in his family for a hundred years. The courts gave it to her, and he decided he’d rather see it burn than see her in it.”
“So, he set it on fire?” Mavis asked.
“That he did,” Max said. “He burned it to the ground. And did his jail time for it.”
Beth sipped her coffee.
“Why do you think he’d be hiding now? Has he burned something else?”
Max shook his head.
“I couldn’t tell you. He seemed like he was in a good place. He’s reconnected with a daughter he’d been estranged from for twenty years. If he’s gotten himself in trouble, he hasn’t said anything.”
“I’m sure he’ll make himself known when he’s ready,” Joyce said, effectively ending the discussion.
“Are you all staying warm enough in this snowy weather?” Beth asked.
Joyce stirred the fire with an iron rod.
“We keep the fire going all day, and with the quilts and tarps you all made us, everyone has plenty of warm bedding.”
Max smiled.
“And we’re taking a page from the pioneers’ playbook. We’ve collected some bricks that we warm in the fire and then wrap in flannel your friend Marjorie gave us. We put them in our beds, and they keep our feet warm all night.”
Mavis stood up and slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. “Is there anything else we can bring you?”
Joyce and Max stood as well.
“You are very kind,” Joyce said. “I think we’re set, for the time being. The church has offered to bring their bus and fetch us for Christmas Eve services and a meal, so we are well taken care of.”
“And we thank you,” Max added.
Beth led the way back to Connie’s car. “Anyone want to go by the Steaming Cup on the way home?”
They all did.
Harriet ordered a large peppermint hot chocolate and a frosted cookie in the shape of a Christmas tree.
“Does anyone else find it interesting that Smokey Joe is avoiding people and is an arsonist?” she asked when the rest of the group was seated with their drinks and snacks.
“You mean, since we had an arson fire last night?” Mavis asked.
Beth stirred a packet of sweetener into her tea and took a sip to test it for sweetness.
“It’s hard not to make the connection. I mean, we haven’t had an arson fire in this town in I don’t know how many years.”
Connie broke her molasses cookie in half and dunked a corner into her tea before biting it.
“Do you think he could be our killer?”
Harriet leaned back in her chair and blew out a breath.
“Anything’s possible, I guess. You have to wonder what his motive would be.”
Lauren arrived, and after getting her drink and a scone came over to the Loose Threads table.
“Did you guys just get back from the homeless camp?”
Harriet nodded.
“I thought you had to work.”
“I had a client call, but it finished sooner than I thought it might. I’ve got a little time before my next client, so I snuck out for a snack.”
“Do you know Smokey Joe’s real name?” Harriet asked her.
“Smokey who?”
Beth laughed. “I guess not.”
Harriet put her hands around her mug to warm them.
“He’s that guy Joyce asked Luke and I about the other day. He was planning on wintering over in the camp, and now he seems to be absent.”
“But,” Connie added. “They think he might be staying there, but keeping out of sight.”
“And,” Mavis finished, “he has arson is his past.”
Lauren took a bite of her scone and thought.
“Do you know his real name?” She looked at Harriet. “Of course you don’t. That’s what you want me to do. Have you asked Morse? They have databases of street names.”
Connie sipped her tea. “We just found out about the arson.”
Lauren took in a big breath and let it out slowly.
“I need to go out to the camp anyway—I bought them a solar-powered stove for Christmas, and I need to deliver it. If they know his real name, I have a chance of finding out who he is and maybe if he might have an axe to grind with our dead people.”
“That would help us confirm whether he might be involved,” Mavis said.
Harriet chewed on a bite of her tree.
“At this point, all we have is a bunch of theories and no way to confirm or eliminate any of them.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Harriet needed to finish stitching a table runner for James’s mother, and Connie and Beth both had holiday projects that needed to be done; so they all decided to stay at Harriet’s to work on them. Mavis didn’t have a critical project, but she decided to stay. too, and work on her wool appliqué.
Beth filled and plugged in the electric kettle, and Mavis dug around in Harriet’s kitchen cupboard, finally coming out with a box of gingersnaps.
“I know none of us need any more cookies, but we should have a few available in case of emergency.”
“Good idea,” Beth agreed.
Connie brought a floor-stand Ott light to her chair and settled in to stitch.
“I appreciate that we’re having winter weather at Christmas time, but I hate these days where it never really gets light all day.”
“I hear you,” Beth said as she threaded her needle.
Harriet focused on the table runner in her lap, and the next time she looked up, an hour had passed. She stood up to stretch and saw Robin’s car pulling into the driveway.
Moments later, Robin came in and immediately made herself a cup of tea.
“I know it’s supposed to be warmer today, but with the drizzle it feels so cold.”
Harriet slid another chair over to the table.
“What brings you our way?”
“I had an errand out this direction and thought I’d take a chance at finding someone home. I had to file some papers at the courthouse this morning, so I stopped by the planning department and then the building permits desk. None of them know about any active plans to redevelop the downtown area.”
“What does that mean—active plans?” Mavis asked.
“According to them, at any given time there are entities scheming on redeveloping downtown. They said most of the time nothing comes of it. Either their financing falls through, they require variances the city won’t give them, or they can’t get key building owners to sell.”
Harriet set her table runner down.
“So they might not know if someone was trying to drive the current business owners out.”
Robin set her mug down.
“That’s what I got out of the discussion. So, we still don’t know if that’s the motive for the murders or the blackmail or both.”
Beth handed her the box of gingersnaps. “Thanks for checking.”
While Robin fished out a cookie, Harriet explained what they’d learned at the homeless camp. Beth and Connie had texted the Threads who hadn’t been in town the night before, letting them know about the fire.
“That’s an interesting development,” Robin said. “Do we know if Smokey Joe’s conviction was in Washington?”
Beth frowned. “No, we don’t. I didn’t think to ask.”
Harriet’s phone rang, and she stepped away from the table to answer.
“That was James,” she said when she came back. “He needs me to go pick up some dill for his tea sandwiches. He said his small private dining room is available if we want to come have tea sandwiches and soup for lunch.”
Beth stuffed her stitching back into her bag. “I’m in.”
“Me, too,” Connie quickly added.
Mavis put her stitching away. “I’ll take your dogs out while you unplug the kettle.”