| |
ONCE THEY GOT INSIDE, Beatrice took Noo-noo out to potty and Miss Sissy opened up the bag of chips. Will wasn’t much of a fan and continued fussing, sticking a chubby finger in his mouth. Beatrice pulled some grapes out and cut each one into a million different pieces. There would be no choking babies on her watch. She smiled as Will took handfuls and stuffed them into his mouth.
There was a knock at the door and Noo-noo erupted into happy barking, anticipating that someone she liked was at the door. Sure enough, it was Ramsay. A tired-looking Ramsay.
“How is Meadow?” asked Beatrice.
Ramsay rubbed his forehead. “Well, she’s broken that ankle, as we thought. She’s going to have to stay off of it for a while to let it heal. Of course, Meadow being Meadow, that’s going to practically be impossible.”
Beatrice said slowly, “There’s no way she can watch the baby, then. Especially with you investigating a murder.”
Ramsay nodded. “That’s exactly what I was going to tell you. She was trying to convince me that she absolutely could watch Will. Who knows—maybe she can figure out a way for tomorrow, but for the rest of the day I think she needs to put her feet up. Do you mind watching Will for the rest of the afternoon?”
“Not a bit,” said Beatrice. “In fact, I was just getting ready to put him down for a nap.” She lowered her voice, “And Miss Sissy, too.”
Ramsay chuckled and then stepped inside the house for a moment as Miss Sissy strode up to them.
“Something I can help you with, Miss Sissy?” asked Ramsay respectfully.
“Where’s my quilt?”
Ramsay snapped his fingers. “Actually, I was going to come by and talk to you about that later today. We did find your quilt. At least, we assume it’s your quilt.”
Miss Sissy looked increasingly agitated and Beatrice said, “Let me help with identifying it. Miss Sissy described the quilt at length to me earlier.”
Ramsay took out his notebook and Beatrice described the quilt with Miss Sissy interjecting from time-to-time to add salient details. Then he nodded decisively, closed his notebook, and put it away. “Miss Sissy, that’s definitely your quilt.”
“Want it back,” said the old woman in a sullen voice.
“And you most certainly will get it back. Probably tomorrow, but don’t you worry, it’s coming back to you.”
“Found it in his house?”
“In a closet. And I can promise you, having gone through his house with a fine-tooth comb, it’s not the sort of item that would have coordinated with the rest of his furnishings and decorations. I can only imagine that he was planning on selling it,” said Ramsay.
Beatrice cleared her throat. “Actually, I might be able to help with that a little. I’m supposing the quilt was in good condition?”
“Well, I don’t know a lot about quilts, but there weren’t any holes in it or mildew on it or anything like that.”
Miss Sissy glared at Beatrice.
“Sorry,” said Beatrice, “I know you take good care of your things. I was just trying to think about the quilt in terms of an appraiser. Considering the age of it and its good condition, a collector might pay as much as five thousand dollars for it.”
Ramsay grunted. “Well, then. Yeah, he was going to sell it. I just don’t know how the guy realized its value.”
“He seemed to have a good eye for valuable things, from what I’ve heard. And I’m sure you and the state police are coming to the same conclusion, but Linton appeared to have some financial problems. I spoke with Bertha Cooke today and she mentioned Linton was a gambler.”
“Wicked!” opined Miss Sissy.
Ramsay’s eyebrows flew up. “Did she, now? Well, that’s a very interesting bit of information. We’ve been able to get into his banking a little bit so far. I can’t disclose much, but our findings seem to reflect that Linton might not have been opposed to trying to make some extra money. I take it his expenses had been very steep with the construction and furnishing of his house. What else did you find out today?”
Ramsay took the notebook back out as Beatrice talked about Linton and his brother’s difficult relationship, Heidi’s devotion for Linton, and Sandra’s anger at being displaced as Linton’s girlfriend. She was careful not to mention any information that Heidi had personally given her, instead giving Ramsay what she’d heard about Heidi and Sandra from other sources.
Miss Sissy listened with satisfaction. “It wasn’t me!”
Ramsay said, “Miss Sissy, I never said you had a thing to do with Linton’s death. There seem to be plenty of people he upset. But you know I have to do my job and talk to everybody who had a problem with Linton, and that does include you. It doesn’t mean I believe you killed him.”
His answer seemed to placate Miss Sissy a little. Then he added sternly, “But I wanted to speak with you about one important thing. Locking your door.”
Miss Sissy looked down at the floor.
“It’s clear to me that Linton must have just walked into your house, spotted that quilt, and walked right back out again with it. If your door had been locked, I’m sure he wouldn’t have stolen that quilt.”
“Thief!” Miss Sissy hissed.
“Yes. Yes, he apparently was a thief. But I doubt he would have wanted a charge of breaking and entering. It sounds like he was just underwater with debt, feeling desperate, and probably figured you’d never even realize the quilt was missing,” said Ramsay.
Miss Sissy, wanting to escape the lecture, stomped off to play with Will who was pushing around a toy truck.
Ramsay turned to Beatrice, “I’d be interested in hearing what your impressions were after listening to all that today.”
Beatrice took a deep breath. “Well, I didn’t have a great impression of Linton Hoover before, but he definitely went down in my esteem after listening to everyone talk about him. He seemed to be on everyone’s bad side. He was a bad neighbor, a bad boyfriend, a bad brother. And apparently, he wasn’t very careful with his money, so he was bad with his personal finances.”
Ramsay frowned. “If Linton was secretly seeing Heidi Wheeler, I have to wonder what Aiden thinks about that. Was that something he knew about?”
“I haven’t spoken to him, but I’ll likely be visiting his roadside stand tomorrow to get some fresh tomatoes.”
Ramsay’s frown deepened. “Now Beatrice, I don’t need you getting any more involved in this than you already are.”
“Oh, I know. It’s just that Wyatt is trying to eat more healthily and I thought some local tomatoes might help with that. The ones they have at the store aren’t quite as good as Aiden’s. Maybe I’ll pick up something while I’m there. You never know—maybe even just an impression. Sometimes people confide in me.”
Ramsay gave her a wry look. “That must be nice. People don’t tend to confide in me. I wonder why.”
Beatrice chuckled. “Well, that’s more to do with your job than it is with you. Are you still thinking about retirement?”
“Thinking about it, yes. But I’m just not sure if I can quite pull it off yet.” He sighed.
“You’d be able to get a lot more writing done,” said Beatrice. She was careful not to mention the award Ramsay had won that she wasn’t supposed to know about.
Ramsay’s expression brightened. “That’s very true. Oh, I fit in a good amount of short story writing on a normal day. But when there’s an investigation going on, that’s completely impossible. I’ll enjoy getting back to it and getting back to my reading again, too.” He quirked an eyebrow. “How’s the book I lent you?”
“You mean As I Lay Dying?” Ramsay was in the habit of lending Beatrice his favorite books for her to read. But William Faulkner wasn’t exactly something you could speed-read. “I’m making a little progress, but it’s been slow going.”
Ramsay said, “Well, as soon as you finish that one, I have another Faulkner gem for you. Maybe it won’t be good right now with everything going on, but The Sound and the Fury is an excellent read. It just might be a little dark.”
Beatrice snorted. “As I Lay Dying isn’t exactly a light read, Ramsay. It starts out with a dying mother watching her son construct her coffin.”
“Ah, right. But it’s such an interesting book, isn’t it?”
“It’s extraordinarily well-written,” admitted Beatrice. “It’s just that I have to have my A-game on when I’m reading it. It’s not the sort of book you can skim. And there are so many characters to keep up with. I had to make myself a cheat-sheet.”
Ramsay was about to respond to this when his phone rang. He peered at it and sighed. “Meadow.”
He answered his phone and said, “How’s everything at the house? Have you settled in?”
Meadow spoke on the other end for a couple of minutes. Beatrice couldn’t make out the words, but she could tell Meadow was very animated.
Ramsay frowned. “Now, Meadow, we talked about this. There’s no way you can take care of Will with a broken ankle. Beatrice is happy to look after him. In fact, she’s about to put him down for a nap.”
He rolled his eyes at Beatrice and she gave him a sympathetic look.
Meadow gave a long monologue before Ramsay finally interjected, “What about picking him up to put him in his high chair?”
Meadow apparently had an answer for that.
“What about putting him in his crib?” demanded Ramsay.
There was another answer for that.
“And in his car seat? You can’t even drive right now!” said Ramsay.
And yet Meadow seemed to have a response for that, too.
Ramsay grumbled, “All right. We’ll give it a go. But if you run into any problems, call Beatrice.”
He glanced at Beatrice to make sure that was all right and she nodded.
He hung up with Meadow and gave a tremendous sigh. “She’s just not wanting to give up her time with that baby.”
Beatrice asked curiously, “How did she say she was going to handle it all? The high chair, crib, etc?”
Ramsay rubbed his eyes and laughed shortly. “Oh, she has a plan for everything. She’s put out a few beach blankets on the kitchen floor for Will to eat there. And she’s made up a little bed for him on the floor in our bedroom.”
Beatrice frowned. “What about Boris?”
“You know how that huge animal loves Will. Meadow thinks Boris won’t even try to eat Will’s food because it’s Will.” Ramsay shrugged.
“But it’s Boris. Boris has eaten things off my countertops before.” It was hard for Beatrice to imagine Boris being well-behaved around food. But she supposed stranger things had happened.
“And the car seat? The driving?” asked Beatrice.
Ramsay said, “And there’s the rub. She acknowledges that she won’t be able to go anywhere with the baby. So it’s going to be Camp Meadow at our house. Fortunately, she has lots of ideas for activities.”
“I can only imagine,” said Beatrice dryly. Meadow did put a lot of time and energy into entertaining their grandson.
Ramsay scooped up Will, earning a dirty look from Miss Sissy as Beatrice started putting Will’s toys and baby equipment back into the box they arrived in. A minute later, Ramsay and Will were getting in the car.
Miss Sissy, her source of entertainment stolen from her, stood up and headed grumpily for the door to make her own exit from Beatrice’s suddenly less interesting house that had no good snacks.
“At least Ramsay found your quilt,” offered Beatrice.
Miss Sissy gave an unimpressed harumph and took her leave.
Beatrice tidied up for a few minutes and then turned to Noo-noo, who was looking at her expectantly. “It’s nice to have some quiet, isn’t it, girl? Let’s go in the backyard.”
With Noo-noo trotting happily behind her, Beatrice picked up her book and headed for the hammock. Usually the little dog wanted to lie on the ground beside her, but this time she looked pointedly up at the hammock.
“You want to get up there?” asked Beatrice doubtfully. “But your little legs will fall through the hammock’s netting. Here, let me get a quilt.”
She got a quilt from inside, spreading it carefully over the bottom of the hammock before collecting the corgi and climbing in with her.
Noo-noo fell asleep right away, giving puffy little snores. Beatrice tried to focus on her book. But, as she’d told Ramsay, Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying did require quite a bit of concentration. There were plenty of characters to keep up with. As she tried to sort out exactly what was going on with the story, she felt her eyelids getting heavier. It didn’t help that the little dog beside her seemed to be coaching her into napping.
When she woke up, the sun was going down and Wyatt was looking down at her sympathetically. “Big day?” he asked.
She filled him in on the rest of it: Meadow’s ankle, Will and Miss Sissy, and their time at the Patchwork Cottage.
“No wonder you fell asleep. You must be completely exhausted,” he said. He glanced at her book. “Of course, reading Faulkner didn’t help, I’m sure.”
Beatrice chuckled. “Well, it’s a very well-written book.”
“Considering who wrote it, I’m sure that’s the case.”
“It just requires a little more focus than I can give it today,” admitted Beatrice.
They walked inside and Wyatt fed Noo-noo her supper. Then he opened up the fridge and then the cabinets. He turned, giving Beatrice a warm smile. “You went to the store for me. You didn’t have to do that.” He paused and added, “I’m not even sure when you did that, with the day you just described to me.”
She gave him a wry look. “Well, I bought the food. Clearly, I haven’t prepared anything. Frankly, I’m not really sure what to do with some of it, so I hoped you had some ideas. Maybe we could steam some of the vegetables? And just eat the fruit raw?”
Wyatt glanced at the different healthy options. “Yes, I think that sounds good. Or maybe I should roast the vegetables, since I could do a whole sheet pan that way. I’ll just put some olive oil and sea salt on them.”
“I’ll help chop up the veggies,” said Beatrice, moving into the kitchen.
Wyatt gently stopped her. “You’ve had a busy enough day. Why don’t you sit in the living room and put your feet up for a while? Read your book.”
Beatrice snorted. “You saw what happened earlier when I tried to read my book.”
“Work on your quilt, then. Or do whatever you can think of to relax. I’ve got this, I promise. I don’t want to create any extra work for you simply because I need to go on a diet.”
Beatrice didn’t have to be told again. Cooking had never been her favorite chore, and now she was in somewhat unfamiliar territory with the healthy, raw foods. Her usual modus operandi was to create a vegetable casserole . . . possibly with a can of cream-of-something soup in it. But she had the feeling that the soup would most definitely be considered a no-no for a whole-foods diet.
She’d just kicked off her shoes and was stretched out on their comfy sofa when her phone rang insistently. Beatrice groaned.
“You don’t have to get that, you know,” said Wyatt.
But Beatrice had already picked up. And then she immediately regretted it. Dora Tucker, a volunteer at the church, fellow quilter, and all-round community-minded resident was on the line. And when Dora called her, she usually had a task for Beatrice.
Dora said briskly in that no-nonsense voice of hers, “Beatrice. Hope you’re well. Listen, I’m calling about the fair. You’re going, I presume.”
It really wasn’t a question. “Yes, I’ll be there,” said Beatrice cautiously. She winced. At the last event, she’d served as the clean-up crew with Dora. She’d decided then that she’d rather take on a different role at the next one. Cleaning up after a barrage of fair-goers was not her idea of fun. And surely, there must be a younger volunteer who’d be better-suited to the task.
“Good. I was wondering if the fair could borrow some of the church’s audio equipment for our second entertainment stage. We have the first stage covered, but the second one needs some help. Will the equipment be available?”
Beatrice said, “Let me check with Wyatt and find out.” She bounced across the room and into the kitchen, pleased that Dora didn’t seem to be calling to recruit her for work, after all.
After she’d asked, he said, “I can’t think of any conflicts that day. We’d be happy to loan it out.”
Beatrice passed this along to Dora, who sounded pleased. “Wonderful. Then that’s taken care of.” She paused. “I also wanted to see if you were on any of the committees for the fair. We do need some help.”
Beatrice closed her eyes momentarily and then opened them to see Wyatt’s amused expression. “Not this time, no. Usually, I’m happy to help out but I wanted to just attend the fair as a grandma this time. I want to see Will on all the baby rides.”
Dora’s voice now sounded irritated. “I see. Well, if that changes, do let me know. We can use all the hands we can.”
Beatrice was about to apologize for her lack of civic initiative, but Dora had already hung up.
“She hung up on me,” said Beatrice in dawning outrage.
Wyatt’s eyebrows shot up. “Did she really?”
Beatrice said, “She did. She didn’t like me turning her down. Dora Tucker is one of those people who always gets her way. She’ll probably figure out a way to recruit me at the fair. She’ll be dragging me off to help with the craft tents or have me taking tickets.” Her face fell, glumly.
Wyatt said, “Well, regardless, I’m very proud of you.”
“For not volunteering?”
“For saying no. I know you wanted to spend time with Will at the fair and why wouldn’t you? He’s at such a great age where everything is new and fun and amazing and you want to experience the event through his eyes. Besides, it’s not as if you don’t do a lot of volunteer work. It’s all right to take a break every now and then,” said Wyatt gently.
This made Beatrice feel a bit better. “Thanks. I felt bad about it because I know they need people to help out. But they need to find some fresh people to help out. The problem in Dappled Hills is that they always tap the same people to volunteer and we all get burned out.”
Beatrice’s phone rang again and she looked warily at it. “Surely that’s not Dora calling back with a new and improved pitch for getting me to work the fair.”
She glanced at her phone and relaxed a little as she saw it was Meadow. Picking up the phone, she said, “Meadow? How are you doing? How’s Will?” She worried that Meadow was calling because she needed help with the baby.
Meadow said crisply, “I’m just fine and so is Will! At least, I suppose Will is fine—Piper has already picked him up. Everyone is fussing over me, though, and it’s driving me crazy.”