Quilt By Association

'She's a quilter,” Aunt Beth said, as if that fact over rode everything else.

'Fine,” Harriet said. “Let's not linger, though. I don't want them thinking they get to question us again just because we're in the building.'

'You worry too much,” Beth said and picked up her purse and bag.

Harriet put on her gray hoodie and picked up her stitching bag. Connie walked them to the door and was about to open it when it swung wide and Rodrigo burst in waving a piece of paper.

'We're legal,” he shouted. He handed Kissa to Connie. “You are legal, my little one,” he said and kissed the baby on her fuzzy head.

'What happened?” Robin asked as she came into the entryway, followed by Carla and Jenny.

'I didn't want to say anything until I checked it out, but years ago, when I first started working for the county, I used to go on domestic abuse calls with the police, to translate. Since there were often kids involved, and it sometimes took hours and sometimes a couple of days to sort things out, Connie and I got certified for short-term foster care.

'It was mainly to give me official standing so I could remove the kids from the scene as quickly as possible. We had a list of Spanish-speaking foster care homes, and if the children had to be removed, I would arrange for them to stay there, but once or twice we kept kids overnight at the office.'

'I didn't realize we were officially certified,” Connie said.

'It was a special circumstance,” Rodrigo said. “They didn't expect us to take the children home, so they didn't do all of the home inspections that typical foster parents go through.'

'So, what does this mean for Kissa?” Robin asked.

'It means she has been temporarily declared a ward of the county and released to our care until they can investigate her circumstances,” Rodrigo said.

'Why didn't you say anything?” Connie asked and batted her husband's arm in mock annoyance.

'I didn't want you ladies getting into any more trouble than normal. Besides, I know people-I knew I could ask a few pointed questions, and if I didn't like the answers, they wouldn't press the matter. As it turns out, it was easy. Kissa and I picked up the papers while you all were meeting.'

'I'm glad someone was sensible about this,” Robin said. “Now we just need to figure out who she really is.'

'And more to the point, who her mother was,” Harriet said.

'Or is,” Lauren said, joining the group in the entry at last. “We don't know that Kissa isn't a kidnap victim.'

A collective groan came from the assembled group.

'Didn't think of that, did you?” With that, Lauren brushed past Jenny, Carla and Mavis. “Ciao,” she said, and went out the door.

'Do you really think she was kidnapped?” Carla asked Harriet.

'I hope not, but I guess anything's possible.'

'Let's go,” Aunt Beth said. “We've got work to do.'

Harriet and Beth said their goodbyes and followed Lauren out the door.

'Lauren's right, you know,” Harriet said when they were settled in her car. “Kissa could be a kidnap victim.” She headed toward downtown Foggy Point and the police station.

'Let's not borrow trouble. She's in legal foster care for the moment. She could as easily be Neelie's or her sister's baby. We don't know. I'm sure the county will explore all those possibilities. You need to concentrate on fixing Iloai's quilt and making up your patterns for the dog quilt.'

Harriet hated it when her aunt treated her like she was still a child dropped unexpectedly into her kitchen by her globetrotting parents, but she was right.

'Okay, a quick stop at the police station, and if it's okay with you, I'd like to stop in Pins and Needles and see if she's got flannel backing that's a better match for Iloai's quilt than the off-white I have.'

'That sounds good. I need to get more fabric to make borders for the rest of Joseph's quilts, and this will save me a trip.'

Chapter 25

Harriet parked on a side street half a block from the police station. You could no longer park directly in front of the station, as those spots had been turned into an elaborate planter system that was in reality a concrete buffer to protect the station in the event terrorists arrived in Foggy Point and decided to storm the FPPD.

Aunt Beth just shook her head as they threaded past the floral displays.

'You never know,” Harriet told her. “Foggy Point could become a target.'

'I'm sure you're right,” Aunt Beth said with just a touch of sarcasm. “There's a real possibility terrorists would bypass the Trident nuclear submarine base in Bremerton and come on into Foggy Point.'

'It could happen,” Harriet said and laughed.

They reached the door, and Harriet held it for her aunt. The room they entered was beige, from the worn linoleum underfoot to the plastic ceiling tiles. The chairs had to have been there since the nineteen-fifties and belonged in a museum, not a working police station, but things were slow to change in Foggy Point.

Harriet heard him before she saw him.

'You tell the de-tec-tive I want to know what he's doing about my wife,” Rodney Miller said, emphasizing each syllable of the word. “Someone killed her, and she needs justice. No one cares, but she needs justice.” He banged his fist on the bulletproof glass that separated him from the receptionist. “She was my wife,” he said and started crying.

'Can I help you?” the receptionist called to Aunt Beth.

'I need help,” Rodney shouted. “Why ain't you helping me?'

'I came to see Detective Morse,” Aunt Beth said in a firm voice.

'What do you need a detective for?” Rodney said to her. “She supposed to be finding out who killed Neelie.'

Detective Morse started to come through a door into the waiting area, but Rodney lunged for her, and she quickly closed the door and went back into the part of the reception area behind the glass. A moment later, two patrol officers came in the front doors. Harriet recognized Officer Jason Nguyen from previous encounters, but she'd never seen the second officer, a muscular young man with a military-style crewcut.

The two men flanked Rodney, grasping his arms. Rodney countered by slithering out of his leather jacket in an attempt to escape. The two officers were ready for the move and grasped his now-bare wrists, quickly pulling them behind him and applying handcuffs.

'Calm down, Mr. Miller,” Officer Nguyen said in a firm voice. “I know you're upset about your wife, but this isn't helping.'

'No one will tell me anything. An’ they ain't doing anything. Neelie's dead. Dead! '

'That's not true,” Nguyen assured him. “The detectives are following several leads, and the lab is processing evidence, but until they get some results, there's nothing to tell. That doesn't mean they aren't doing anything.'

Harriet wanted to know what they were doing, too, but it didn't seem like the time to ask.

'If you don't stop coming in here and screaming at our receptionist, we're going to have to put you in a cell and charge you with disorderly conduct. I don't want to do that, but if you can't control yourself, I will.'

The second officer had remained silent till now.

'Take a deep breath,” he said softly, and Rodney did.

He relaxed, and they sat him in one of the chairs in the waiting area.

'You okay now?” Officer Nguyen asked after Rodney had been quiet for a few minutes.

Rodney nodded.

'Okay,” said the other officer. “We're going to walk you outside and undo the cuffs. I promise, as soon as we know anything about what happened to your wife, we'll give you a call. We've got your cell phone number.'