room. They were bent over a box of calico print fabric across the room when she stepped onto the landing.
'I'll go get some boxes while I'm up,” she said.
She climbed the stairs to the third floor. She couldn't resist going into Avanell's tower office. A layer of mist covered both land and water in all directions out the window; the house was above the fog line. Soft lamplight from Foggy Point shops and streetlights glowed yellow through the fluff that covered the downtown.
She dragged herself away from the view. She glanced at Avanell's desk. The stacks of papers were gone. She pulled the drawers open and looked inside, but they were all empty. Someone had cleared the desk out since last night.
She made three trips carrying boxes before she sat down with the other women to sort fabric. Her job was to fold batiks. Avanell didn't always keep her own hand-dyed fabric apart from the rest of her stash, so it was sometimes hard to tell which ones were hand-dyed and which were commercial batiks.
She'd been at it for about an hour when her cell phone rang.
'Hello,” she said. “Yes, I'm Harriet.'
'Good morning, ladies,” a voice boomed from the landing. Harriet covered her free ear and stepped into the hallway in order to hear her caller. She saw Avanell's brother Bertrand come into the parlor with a plate of doughnuts.
'I brought you some doughnuts to have with your tea,” he said. “I do appreciate what you're doing here.'
Harriet finished her phone call and rejoined the group.
'That was weird,” she said to no one in particular.
'Is there a problem?” Bertrand asked.
'I'm not sure. That was the woman in charge of hanging the quilts at the Puget Sound Quilt Show. She was informed of Avanell's passing, and it raised the question of whether her quilt still qualified to be hung in the group category or not. Technically, the quilt is now being shown by an owner, not a maker, and that's a different category.
'She realizes this is a rather unusual circumstance and said she'll get back to me as soon as she can get the board of governors together to make a decision.'
'That's ridiculous,” Bertrand said, a faint hint of his French accent apparent for the first time.
'Well, I'm sure they'll sort it out. According to Aunt Beth, Avanell has won the grand prize for quite a few years running. That has to count for something.'
'I'll leave you girls to your work, then,” he said, and turned with a flourish and went down the stairs.
'I'll bet he was a real Cassanova in his day,” DeAnn commented.
'In his own mind, anyway,” Jenny said. “He was in grade school when his parents moved here from France, but he always tried to impress the girls with his European heritage.'
'Did it work?'
'Not really. He married a mousy little girl who was two years below him in school. Does anyone have a pile started for metallic overlays?” she said, effectively ending the topic.
Harriet went upstairs for another box; and while she was gone, Connie arrived. The shorter woman pulled her into a hug when she came back downstairs.
'How are you doing today?” she asked.
'I'm good.” Harriet pulled awkwardly away.
Connie set her carafe down on the table.
'Anyone want tea?” she asked. “It's peppermint today.'
Harriet held up her empty cup and allowed Connie to fill it with hot liquid.
'So, has anyone heard anything about Avanell's case,” Connie asked after she'd gotten settled in her spot at the table.
'Shh, not so loud,” Jenny said. “The whole family is downstairs.'
'I'm sure they want to know as much as we do,” Connie countered.
'Darcy came in for a movie last night, but if she knows anything more she's not saying,” DeAnn offered. “She said the sheriff is still working on the premise it was a robbery gone wrong.'
'He knows better than that,” Mavis protested. “When have we ever had a robbery where they killed someone? That may happen in the city, but not in Foggy Point, Washington.'
'That's what I say,” Connie agreed.
'If not robbery, then what?” asked Harriet.
'I'm not sure,” Jenny said. “But I for one don't believe that your break-in and Avanell's death happening on the same night was just a coincidence.'
'But who would want Avanell dead?” Harriet persisted. She looked into the serious faces of her aunt's friends.
'On TV they usually say it's the person who has the most to gain from the death.'
'That's easy,” said Lauren.
'Who?” several others chorused.
'Aiden, of course.'
'What does he have to gain from it?” Harriet asked.
'He inherits a big pile of money from his grandmother.'
'What does that have to do with Avanell?” Jenny wanted to know.
'Grandma Binoche was a crazy old lady. And she hated Avanell. She had the room next to my grandma Oliver at the Muckleshoot River Assisted Living Center. She would come to my grandma's room when I came to visit. I don't think she had many visitors.
'Anyway, she told me the lengths she'd gone to so she could be sure Avanell would not benefit in any way from her death. She left her estate to Aiden, but it's held in trust until Avanell's death. So he not only inherits whatever Avanell left him, but he also gets whatever Grandma Binoche left, and from the way she talked, it wasn't a small amount, either.'
'That's it?” Harriet said. “That's the evidence you have against Aiden? What about Michelle?'
'That, and the fact that he lives by himself and has no alibi,” DeAnn added. “Michelle didn't come to town until Thursday afternoon.'
'Darcy did mention that no one related to Avanell had an ironclad alibi. She heard the beat officers complaining because it was more work for them trying to find people who had chanced to see them, since they did pretty much nothing all night.'
'That sounds pretty thin,” Mavis scoffed. “And besides, Aiden has a skill that will earn him a good salary once he gets established. He wouldn't kill his momma for money.'
'You never know what motivates people, though. Money does funny things to folks,” Jenny said.
No one spoke after that. She was right-money did do funny things to people.
'Does anyone care if I take some of the thirties reproduction prints for one of the girls in Marjorie's Thursday night group?” Harriet asked, referring to a group of pastel fabrics printed with images that had been popular in the 1930s. She looked around the table.
'I think that would be fine,” Jenny said. Connie nodded agreement.
'Let's put these stacks back in the boxes and label them. Harriet and I can take the Goodwill boxes and the ones that go to Foggy Point Assisted Living Center. Connie, could you take the box for the Friends of Seasonal Workers?” Mavis asked.
Connie nodded again.
'I can take the charity boxes that go to Marjorie's. I'll put them in my car and then bring them to Pins and Needles on Tuesday, if that's okay with everyone,” offered DeAnn.
'That sounds great,” Jenny said. “If everyone takes some of the boxes with them, we'll only have the project bags to deal with.'
'I vote we take the bags with us, too, and finish deciding about them at Loose Threads or Harriet's or somewhere that isn't here,” suggested Mavis.
'We can take them to my studio,” Harriet said.
