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“I THINK WE’RE ON A roll,” said Meadow. “We shouldn’t go back to the house now, not while we’re doing so well investigating. Where else can we go?”
Beatrice considered this. “We could go head to the garden center. I wasn’t kidding about needing to do some work in my yard. That ‘yard of the month’ built up too many expectations for our neighbors. I need to get my yard up to speed.”
“Perfect. And I can be there at the garden center to help you lug the stuff,” said Meadow.
“Lugging? I’m not planning on getting any trees. I only want to brighten up the yard a little bit. Freshen it up some. Maybe plant some flowers,” said Beatrice.
“Still, you need my expert gardening advice, if nothing else, even though I haven’t spent time in my yard like I should have. But first, we should drive by Mona’s house to check and make sure that she’s not there,” said Meadow.
Meadow drove to the edge of town where cottages dotted a ridge overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Finally, she pulled off the side of the road so they could study a one-story stone house with a tidy garden.
“I don’t see her car in the driveway,” said Meadow slowly. “And she doesn’t have a garage.”
Beatrice squinted at a small structure to the back-right of Mona’s house. “What’s that?”
“Where?” asked Meadow, squinting herself.
“That building there. It looks like a storage shed of some sort ... what’s left of it, anyway,” said Beatrice.
Meadow gave a short gasp. “Someone has burned it down.”
“Well, not completely down. And we don’t know that someone did it. Maybe it was struck by lightning or maybe it had some sort of an electrical problem,” said Beatrice. “But I think we should find out more about it.”
“You don’t think that Violet could have done something like this?” demanded Meadow.
Beatrice said, “Meadow, we’re already suspecting her of murder and of shoving someone down a steep flight of stairs. We might as well add arson into the mix. Don’t forget the charge of ‘lurking’, either.”
Meadow narrowed her eyes. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.” She put the car into drive and lurched off at a fast pace toward the garden center.
Beatrice felt her stomach lurch, as well. “Meadow, again, we don’t have to race there. Mona will probably still be at work until the garden center closes. It’s about an hour before they lock up.”
Meadow drove at a slightly slower pace, but still fast enough for Beatrice to grip the door again, as she stared grimly ahead.
The garden center had apparently been there for ages, long enough to look as if it were an outcropping of the mountain it sat on. Trailing flowers in decorative pots hung from hooks on the porch and the owner had hummingbird feeders mixed in. The pleasing result was of tiny birds and flowers everywhere.
Meadow said, “What was it that you wanted to buy?”
“I’m not sure. Honestly, this place is sort of overwhelming. I didn’t realize they had buildings in the back, too,” said Beatrice. “I just wanted some flowers to brighten up the yard a little.”
“Annual or perennial?” asked a pert voice behind them.
They turned to see a diminutive woman with large glasses and a big smile. “Meadow!” she greeted Meadow. “And ... you’re Beatrice, right? I know we’ve met before, but I’m terrible with names.”
Beatrice laughed. “If you’re terrible with names, it certainly doesn’t show. Yes, I’m Beatrice Coleman.”
“I’m Mona,” she beamed at them. “And if I can give you any tips on your purchase, just let me know.”
Of course, Beatrice did want some tips. Mona had been working at the garden center for many years and she was quite knowledgeable. The only problem with getting some real direction and being introduced to so many plants was that Beatrice ended up with a cart full of flowers. She hadn’t intended to buy so many, but she couldn’t seem to resist. Mona also made sure Beatrice had soil and fertilizer.
Finally, she said, “I probably should check out now. Otherwise, Wyatt and I will be spending the next few days planting. And the poor guy doesn’t even have a clue that planting is in his future right now.”
Meadow made a dismissive sound. “As if Wyatt would mind anything that you ask him to do! He’s so completely devoted.”
As they walked to the checkout counter, Beatrice said, “Mona, Meadow and I passed your house on the way over and we hadn’t realized you’d had a fire on your property until we saw your shed. That must have been very scary.”
Mona turned serious. “It sure was. It was very late at night and I’m so glad that I woke up. Usually I don’t wake up in the night like that because I’m a really sound sleeper. If I hadn’t woken up, I can’t imagine how much damage might have happened to the property. Or maybe the fire could have even spread to the house. It’s definitely been windy enough lately for that to happen.” She shuddered.
Beatrice said, “Do you have any idea how the fire got started?”
Mona’s expression turned hard. “I can tell you how I hope it started. How I like to think that it started. I did have a lot of chemicals stored in the shed for my yard. Most gardeners do, after all. Things to help with fungi on my bushes or problem spots on my lawn. Maybe those chemicals had something to do with it or acted as an accelerant of some kind. Fortunately, I was able to put the fire out myself, but I really hate that I lost so much stuff in that shed. I had collected a lot of yard tools over the years and now I’m having to replace those.” She shook her head. “But it could have been so much worse.”
Meadow tilted her head to one side at looked quizzically at Mona. “You said that you hope it started that way. What’s the alternative?”
Mona gave a harsh laugh. “The alternative is that someone set the fire. Maliciously.”
After meeting Mona, Beatrice was having a hard time reconciling the tiny, gentle woman with the woman who was supposed to be feuding with Violet. “Who would have done something like that?” she asked.
Mona gave a shrug. “It could have been kids, I suppose. Sometimes teenagers get bored in a town the size of Dappled Hills. There aren’t a whole lot of things for teens to do here besides get themselves into trouble. They could have just been out making mischief, not realizing the damage that was going to happen. Or it could have been someone else.”
Meadow said, “I’ve heard through the grapevine that there has been some trouble in the Cut-Ups guild. Is everything okay between you and Violet? And do you think that Violet could have done something like that?” Meadow’s horrified features reflected the fact that she, for one, didn’t think that a quilter could be responsible for arson.
“I would hate to think that she could,” said Mona, looking troubled. “But I can’t say that it hasn’t been on my mind. The bad feelings between us have gone too far and we need, for the sake of the guild, to become friends again.”
Beatrice asked, “What happened between you?”
Mona said, “Oh, you know how it goes between women. It wasn’t anything really major; it was mostly just silly stuff that got out of hand. And I know that it was just as much my fault as much as anybody’s. Maybe I had a little bit of Queen Bee syndrome. There’s not a lot that I’m good at, but I was proud that I was good at quilting. I was even prouder that I was the big prize winner at all of the shows from our guild.” Her tone was self-deprecating and she sighed. “Then ... let’s face it. A new talent came in.”
Beatrice said, “But Violet wasn’t that good at first. She couldn’t have been.”
“No, she wasn’t. But she was an extremely quick learner and she was absolutely passionate about quilting. More so than I was, to be honest. Maybe I’d simply gotten complacent after quilting for so long. I wasn’t out looking for challenges and didn’t put any stock into the fact that I still needed to grow as a quilter. Violet really is an inspiration. Even though she didn’t have a lot of time between the part-time jobs, nor a lot of money, she still managed to devote many hours to learning the craft. Violet told us that she would pull quilting all-nighters and then head off to work.” Mona shook her head in wonder.
Meadow said sorrowfully, “And to think I missed an opportunity to get her into the Village Quilters.”
Mona said, “She became a fantastic quilter. And we all supported her at the Cut-Ups. She’d show up at my house or at another guild member’s house and ask questions, lugging her current project with her. Violet would knock on my door all hours of the day or night, single-focused on what she was doing. I don’t believe she spared a thought for what we might have going on when she interrupted us. Although sometimes I had the impression that she didn’t really need any help at all—she merely needed validation that she was doing well. Even when she was learning, there was an early point when I feel as though her skills far exceeded anyone’s in the guild, including mine.”
“Her dropping by must have gotten very annoying,” said Beatrice, making a face.
Meadow added pointedly, “It must have seemed as though she was lurking.”
“Most of us didn’t even really mind,” said Mona. “We were just delighted to have a young member who was so passionate about quilting. We all love introducing new quilters to the craft. But I think, with all our support and encouragement, we created a monster.”
Meadow said, “A monster? In what way?”
“Oh, Violet would start pointing out flaws in our own quilts, as if every quilt was supposed to be perfect in every way. Don’t get me wrong—perfection is great. But it’s not always attainable and that’s not always the goal of every quilt. Not every quilt is bound for a show. Violet sort of picked apart everyone’s projects,” said Mona.
Beatrice said, “That would be very demotivating. And I would imagine that it would really start creating some resentment among the guild members.”
“It was and it did. I’m afraid that I started avoiding her a little. Now, looking back on it, I think that finding the flaws in others’ quilts was one way that she helped teach herself what not to do. Violet was voicing what she was thinking instead of internalizing it. That’s me, trying to be understanding now. But at the time, it was very hard to swallow,” said Mona.
Meadow said, “Is that when Violet started winning all the shows?”
“That’s right. And I feel like I really didn’t handle it at all well. Queen Bee syndrome, as I mentioned earlier. I was used to winning and then I wasn’t winning,” said Mona in a self-deprecating voice.
Beatrice said slowly, “But it must have been more than that. How was Violet’s attitude about her own winning? Was she a good sport?”
Mona nodded. “You’re right. She was a bad winner. Violet would point out the problems, whether in design or execution, of our guild’s quilts and explain why hers was better. It wasn’t exactly an endearing quality and my back was already up from losing ribbons. I avoided Violet because quilting wasn’t fun for me anymore when she was around. The more I avoided her, the more she appeared determined to see me. I think, ultimately, her feelings were hurt. Of course I regret that—I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I was simply trying to avoid being so completely annoyed by her presence and tackled it the only way I could think of.”
Meadow said, “No one likes a poor sport. But it would have been better if y’all had just told her that. Maybe she didn’t realize why everyone was trying to avoid her. I would have told her, if she’d been in the Village Quilters.”
Beatrice had absolutely no doubt in her mind that that was the case.
“Maybe we should have told her. Maybe I should have sat her down and told her that we were proud of her but that her behavior needed to stop. But we didn’t,” said Mona with a shrug.
Beatrice said, “How upset was Violet? You don’t think she’d be upset enough to set fire to your shed, do you? Over something like you avoiding her? That would be rather childish, wouldn’t it?”
“It would, but she is rather childish, to be honest. The few times that she didn’t win, she was just as bad of a sport as she was when she did,” said Mona. “And here’s the kicker. She was making everyone in the Cut-Ups so miserable that I, as president, called a secret meeting—a meeting where we voted on whether to keep Violet in the guild. We barely had enough votes to keep her in, so we did. But somehow, word got to Violet that I’d proposed removing her from the guild. She was furious. She was yelling at me in the streets when she saw me.” Mona shook her head. “So, much as I’d like to think that she wouldn’t set fire to my shed, I think it’s possible that she did.”
A customer walked into the shop and toward Mona, looking as if she had a question for her. Beatrice grabbed her cart and said, “Thanks, Mona. Good talking to you.” And Meadow and Beatrice walked back to Meadow’s car.
Meadow said as she backed the car up, “Well, what do you think about all that? It just goes to show that it’s hard to really know someone.”
“You mean Violet? Or Mona?”
“Both!” said Meadow emphatically as she drove away. “I was a little surprised that Mona tried to vote Violet out of the guild, for one. That was such an underhanded thing to have done.”
“Yes, but think about it. There was only one person in the guild who was creating a lot of drama for everyone else. More than that, this person was a new member. Everyone else had likely been in the guild for a matter of decades. It seems to me that her approach was the most expedient one,” said Beatrice. “Remove the person who is creating the stress.”
Meadow snorted. “You’re always so practical, Beatrice. You’re looking at it as a precision cut, something surgical. But there are women’s emotions involved ... their feelings. The way Mona decided to handle it, as president of her guild, involved this sort of political, smoky backroom maneuver. As I said before, it sure would have been a lot better to have a heartfelt one-on-one conversation with Violet. Mona should have simply sat her down and told her quite frankly that people don’t like having their quilts picked apart in that way. It’s hurtful. That maybe it’s all right to think those types of things, but certainly not to say them unless the quilter is actually looking for critical feedback in order to improve. These quilts can reflect months of work ... you know that.”
Beatrice said, “I’m just not convinced that’s the better approach.”
“Well, maybe Violet wouldn’t have burned down Mona’s shed, if Mona hadn’t been so underhanded in dealing with the whole issue. Obviously, Violet must have been really hurt that there was a secret meeting called with everyone talking about her. If it had been handled privately, between Mona and Violet, maybe it never would have come to this.”
“That’s true. You do have a point, Meadow. But we don’t know that Violet was the one that set fire to Mona’s shed,” said Beatrice. “Although it does sound very likely.”
Meadow said, “I’m also surprised by Violet possibly being involved in all this. I’ve never thought of her as conceited or of having a big ego. Aren’t you surprised?”
“Definitely. When I’ve seen Violet, she’s always been sort of shy. It’s hard to imagine her lording it over everyone and acting like a quilting expert when she’s pretty much brand-new,” said Beatrice.
“But that’s the thing. She doesn’t have to act like a quilting expert. She is a quilting expert. It simply happened really, really quickly. That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. And everyone else wasn’t just annoyed by her manner at the shows—I’m sure they were annoyed by the fact that Violet, who was something of a novice, was winning ribbons,” said Meadow. She took a curve on the road rather hard and Beatrice winced.
“Watch the driving, Meadow, or you’ll end up with soil all over the back of your van,” said Beatrice.
“Oh, right. The flowers,” muttered Meadow. “So let’s recap things, because I don’t know if I can remember all the stuff you’ve found out so far. We have Violet, as we just mentioned. She might have killed Ophelia, who possibly saw her lurking (using Miss Sissy’s word) around Mona’s house before the fire. Then she might have murdered Pearl, who could have seen something when Violet was at Ophelia’s house.”
“Possibly,” said Beatrice. “If Pearl stopped by Ophelia’s house for some reason that morning. And then we have Barton, who may or may not have had a bad temper, depending on who you’re listening to. Pearl may have been driving Barton crazy with her suffocating manner and he killed her in the heat of the moment. Then Ophelia might have seen something and had to be silenced.”
“Or else we believe Lois who says that Pearl was a real asset to Barton and that he would never have killed his wife,” said Meadow with a sigh. “Moving on to Lois as a potential suspect. Ophelia had something against Lois or something on Lois, and Lois might have had to get rid of her. Then Pearl would have been murdered if she could lead the police to Lois. Or, Lois knows something about the killer and that’s why she is in danger.”
“And then we have Mae. Mae was having an affair with Barton and maybe she thought that, with Pearl out of the way, she and Barton could have a future together,” said Beatrice. “Except that Mae says Barton had broken up with her. Maybe she thought that, with Pearl gone, Barton would change his mind.”
Meadow said, “Or maybe Mae killed Ophelia first. Since Ophelia apparently had a lot more money than everyone thought. And Ophelia likely left whatever money she had to her niece as her only relative.”
“Maybe. Although I don’t get the impression that Mae really needs money,” said Beatrice. “She seems to be completely content in her life.”
“So where do we go from here?” asked Meadow.
Beatrice said, “We’ll be at Pearl’s service tomorrow and might have the opportunity to follow back up with someone. Violet, maybe? Maybe she’ll be attending the funeral.”
“Well, Barton will definitely be there, but I suppose his wife’s funeral service isn’t exactly the best time to chat with him,” said Meadow.
“No. I think I can easily find a time to talk to him, though. I’ll check in with Wyatt and find a time that Barton is likely to be at the church. He’s an elder and they have meetings at the church all the time. I’ll simply happen to be there at the same time and catch him in the parking lot or something,” said Beatrice.
After Beatrice returned home, the rest of the day was spent planting all of the flowers that she’d bought at the garden center. This wasn’t the chore she’d expected, but it seemed like a pleasant enough task. She pulled weeds, dug and planted, and even clipped a few of the bushes while she was outside. Maybe it was the fact that it was a completely physical activity that made the work such a nice escape. She’d expected to ask Wyatt to help her after he returned from work, but when he did, she was already wrapping-up.
“What’s all this?” he asked, a bemused smile on his face as he stepped out of his car. “The yard looks amazing!”
Beatrice said, “Oh, it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while. It was such a nice day that I guess I got carried away—with the buying and the planting! I thought I’d leave a little for you to help me with, but I ended up tackling the whole thing.”
“I did bring home one thing to plant,” said Wyatt.
“You had the same idea?” asked Beatrice. “That’s almost spooky.”
“Not quite the same idea,” said Wyatt, opening up the back door of his sedan and stooping to pick something up from the floor of the car. When he rose, he carried a sapling in his hands.
Beatrice stood up slowly, feeling a little stiff. “You bought a tree!”
Wyatt said, “I thought it would be fun to watch it grow as our marriage grows ... sort of a way to mark the year we were married. It’s a cherry tree.”
“Those are beautiful in the springtime. And I know just the spot for it,” said Beatrice.
“I was hoping you were going to say that,” said Wyatt with a laugh. “I didn’t plan that part.”
“I lost a dogwood a year or so ago and the yard has looked a little bare to me ever since. Right here,” she said, pointing to a spot toward the front of the yard.
Wyatt walked in to change clothes and returned with a shovel and some fertilizer and mulch. He hurried back in again and returned with a folding chair “With a tree this size, it won’t take long, but why don’t you sit down for a while and keep me company? That was a ton of work you did in the yard.”
“I was inspired,” said Beatrice with a grin. For the next thirty minutes, she watched and chatted with Wyatt as he carefully prepared the site and soil and planted and staked the tree. Then he watered it.
As Wyatt was finishing up, Beatrice’s cell phone rang. She sighed for a moment, closing her eyes.
Wyatt frowned. “Is that something church-related again? Are you still getting those?”
“Afraid so,” said Beatrice with a groan.
“I’ll take it,” said Wyatt, holding out his hand. He answered the phone and then said, “Jane? Yes, it’s Wyatt Thompson. What can I help you with?” He listened for a moment and then said, “Yes, it’s this Wednesday night that the youth need to bring soup cans to help with the hunger drive. I’m sorry—did we not update the church calendar? I see. I’m sorry for that. Yes, if Annabelle brings in her cans on Wednesday, we’ll have a container to collect them. Thanks.”
He hung up and then gave Beatrice a rueful look. “It sounds as though the church calendar isn’t getting updated. That’s not helping things. I’ll sit down with it tonight and see what I can do about making it more of a resource.”
Beatrice said, “But that’s not your job. And besides, I was hoping we could play a game of chess tonight after supper. You’d mentioned a couple of weeks ago that you used to play and I wanted to see how much I remembered of the game.”
Wyatt said, “Maybe we can do both? Think of it this way—if I update the church calendar, you’ll have less of a problem with the phone calls. I did speak with the session and they agree that we need to hire someone. When I left them, they were working out the details with whether it needed to be a full-time or part-time position. But as with any change, it’s not going to happen overnight. In the meantime, if I spend just thirty or forty minutes on the calendar, it might save you a lot of time.” He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of time, how about if I get us started with supper? I think we have some pasta in the freezer. I know you’ve got to be worn out after all that yardwork. And in the backyard, too! I saw it when I went in to change.”
Beatrice gave him a smile. “The good news is that our supper tonight is courtesy of Meadow. We get to enjoy one of her famous chicken pot pies.”
And they did. What’s more, they ate outside, admiring Beatrice’s handiwork.