Quilter's Knot

'Go ahead,” Mavis sat back down on the sofa.

'Alone, please.” Tom remained standing.

'Not a chance,” Mavis said.

'It's okay, Mavis. We'll be right out front.” Harriet looked at him. His jaw was tight. He nodded once and stalked out onto the porch. She followed and pulled the door shut behind her.

'I'm really sorry,” she said as she turned to face him.

'You should be,” he snapped. “What did you think you were going to find, going through my files?” He ran his right hand through his hair and began pacing the length of the porch.

'Harriet!” Aiden took the porch steps two at a time, stopping when he reached her side. “Are you okay? Mavis said you and Carla were in a fire.” He held her at arm's-length, surveying her intently.

'I'm fine.'

'You were at the workshop?” Tom grabbed Harriet's arm and spun her toward him.

'Get your hands off her,” Aiden said and shoved him away.

Tom shoved back, and Aiden stumbled down the first two stairs. He leaped back up and hit Tom with a right hook to the jaw. Tom stumbled and fell to sit on the floor.

'Stop it!” Harriet yelled. She pushed Aiden back and crouched down beside Tom.

The door banged open, and Mavis appeared.

'What is going on out here?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

'He grabbed Harriet,” Aiden said, sounding more like a spoiled eight-year-old than a grown veterinarian.

Tom stared at Aiden and Mavis but said nothing as he swiped at the trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

Mavis turned to Harriet.

'Take Tom into the kitchen and get him cleaned up. And you…” She turned to glare at Aiden. “You go into the living room with Connie, and then we'll get this sorted out.'

The men withdrew to their appointed corners, and Mavis put the kettle on the stove. Harriet wet a paper towel and handed it to Tom.

'I should have the lot of you thrown in jail,” he muttered.

Harriet rifled through the drawers and found a sandwich bag. She pulled a strange-looking aluminum ice cube tray from the freezer. She tilted it from side to side, trying to figure out how it worked.

'Pull the handle,” Mavis said.

Harriet did as instructed, and the cubes loosened. She filled the bag, wrapped it in a towel and handed it to Tom. She could hear Connie's voice from the common room. She couldn't hear the words, but the former teacher's tone said it all. Aiden was getting a thorough tongue-lashing.

Mavis's kettle whistled, and she poured hot water into of mugs she'd prepped with tea bags. She put them on a tolework tray and carried them to the dining table.

'Now, everyone sit down, and we'll see what we've got here,” she ordered, and began distributing tea.

Connie brought Aiden in and sat beside him on one side of the table. Harriet and Tom sat opposite them, with Mavis at the head.

'I'll start,” Harriet said. “I'm the reason Tom's here.” She looked at him. “I'm sorry about this.'

Aiden's face reddened, but Connie put her hand on his arm, silencing him.

'Tom found me searching his office this afternoon,” Harriet continued. She looked him in the face. “Our friend Lauren is a long-term student here. We went to her exhibition, and my aunt, who was visiting from Foggy Point, joined us. She's just returned from a cruise to Europe, and she noticed that Lauren's quilt was an exact duplicate of one she saw in a gallery over there. Lauren swears she didn't copy anyone else's work and asked me to help her figure out what was going on. We went back to look at her quilt again and discovered it was missing. Someone said you were the one who shipped students’ work to the other schools in your system for evaluation.'

'You could have asked,” he pointed out.

'Yes, I could have, but if you were involved in the copying, why would you tell me the truth?'

'What you're saying makes no sense. You just said your aunt saw a copy in Europe. If I were masterminding a quilt-copying ring, why would I take your friend's quilt after the fact? What would I be doing with it? It had already hung in the exhibition.'

'Hello! To destroy the evidence?” Connie suggested. “You might have realized we were on to you.'

'And just exactly how did I figure that out? I've met Harriet exactly twice. The second time, we went out to dinner when that clown stood her up.” The last was accompanied by a smirk at Aiden.

'So, you're saying you don't know anything about Lauren's quilt being copied?” Harriet asked.

'That's what I'm telling you. I ship quilts a couple of times a year, but just to the other two folk art schools we work with. They ship students’ work to us and we do the same. Everyone evaluates the work independently, and then they all get together to see if they agree.'

'Tom, someone is copying quilts. Carla and I saw the evidence. It was in the workshop on the other side of the meadow.'

'That's convenient,” he scoffed. “That would be the workshop someone tried to burn down? Did you break in there, too?'

'The door was open,” Carla said softly from her perch at the end of the sofa in the common room.

'Wait, you said tried to burn down?” Harriet said.

'I'm not sure anyone was actually trying to burn anything down. One of the big garbage cans was filled with fabric then doused with something flammable and set on fire. The fireman said they would do some tests, but it looked like it was gasoline. It mostly just smoked the place up, though.'

'I can imagine what that fabric was,” Harriet said. “We saw several copied projects in process.'

'It makes no sense,” Tom argued. “Why would anyone want to copy student work? No offense,” he added and glanced at the women sitting around the table.

'That's what we've been trying to figure out,” Mavis said.

'Did you ship teachers’ work also?” Harriet asked.

'Sometimes, but mostly they did their own thing. We keep acid-free paper and boxes. The teachers came and got packing materials from me once in a while.'

'What about your mother?” Harriet persisted.

Tom looked down at the table. It was almost a minute before he spoke. “My mom hasn't shown any of her work in a while,” he said quietly.

'Was your mother planning on selling the school?” Harriet asked in an abrupt change of topics. Mavis looked at her and raised her eyebrows.

'No,” Tom said. “No.” He studied his hands. “I'm sure you saw the property offers on my work table.” He looked up at Harriet. “Is that what you were really doing in my office?'

'No,” Harriet assured him. “But I have to admit I was curious. I mean, one day we see you with surveyors, and then a few days later there are property bids.'

'It's none of your business what I do or don't do with my mother's property.'

Aiden stood. “This isn't getting us anywhere. I've got to go to the hospital to check on Cammi.” He looked at Tom. “Sorry,” he said and held out his hand. Tom stared at it but made no move to take it. “Whatever,” Aiden muttered and left.

'Tom,” Harriet said, “I'm sorry I went into your office uninvited, but I spent the morning with Lauren at the police station. They think she killed your mother.'

'Maybe she did. Did you ever think of that?'

'Of course, she didn't kill your mother,” Mavis snapped. “Why would she?'

'Why would anyone kill my mother? Her students loved her. The teachers respected her. But someone killed her.'

Harriet wondered if he had ever seen his mother in action.

'The police suspect Lauren because she's been vocal about her work being copied, and your mom is the person who had the most access to Lauren's work,” she pointed out. “Maybe your mom was investigating and caught someone in the act.'

'Poison is hardly the method you would use if someone caught you in the act of something.'

'Well, maybe she saw what we saw in the workroom. She knew someone was copying but didn't know