her there, finishing with Detective Ruiz's appearance. “Tom was on his way to the office to try to hire some private security when I left him.'
'That's it,” Connie said from the kitchenette, where she'd been toasting bagels and eavesdropping. “I think it's time to pack up and go home.'
'I'm not leaving early,” insisted Sarah from the dining table. “I paid for a whole week, and I'm staying a whole week.'
'It's not safe,” Connie argued, her voice rising. “Didn't you hear? They're hiring security guards. They don't even think it's safe, and they run the place. For crying out loud, someone's been murdered.'
'Get a grip. That doesn't have anything to do with us. I'm going to my first lecture before all the good seats are taken.” Sarah went upstairs to get her coat.
'Don't forget, we've still got Lauren to deal with,” Mavis reminded Connie. “We can't just leave her here. And Tom is going to hire security. We just need to be extra-careful, not go anywhere alone.” She looked at Harriet. “And I mean everyone.'
Connie was wearing her thick pink terrycloth robe over brown polyester pants and a salmon-colored tunic style shirt. Harriet's aunt Beth wore her robe over her clothes on chilly mornings, too. A wave of nostalgia swept over Harriet. For a moment, she wished she was still twelve and watching Aunt Beth bustle around her yellow kitchen in Foggy Point.
'I think we should go home, too” she muttered. “Trouble follows Lauren; it doesn't matter what we do.'
'Did you eat breakfast?” Mavis asked.
'No, we just had hot chocolate.'
Connie picked up a toasted bagel half, smeared it with cream cheese and handed it to her. She spread the second half and handed it to Carla, who had come downstairs during their discussion. Then she poured two glasses of orange juice and handed one to each of them.
Mavis glanced at the clock. “I'm going to go get my notebook. We should leave pretty soon.'
Connie put the juice and cream cheese away and followed Mavis upstairs.
'What are you going to do?” Carla asked.
'I'm trying to figure out which lecture to go to. Honestly, I'm so distracted by everything that's been going on I'm not sure I'm going to learn anything.'
'I was going to tag along with you.” Carla twisted her hands around each other, her eyes downcast. “If that's okay with you, I mean.'
'That's fine with me. Mavis did say we were supposed to go in pairs. Did you look at the list of lectures?'
'The one about thread seemed like it might be interesting.'
'Thread it is, then,” Harriet said. She pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to Carla, then took one for herself and wiped her hands. “Shall we leave in five minutes?'
Robin caught up with Harriet and Carla on the porch of the fiber arts building.
'Have you seen Lauren?” she asked.
Harriet told her about her early-morning visitor.
'I'm getting worried,” Robin said. “That detective called me. They're looking for her. They want to know where she was when Tom's office was torn apart. Unfortunately, I couldn't tell him anything.'
'I told him what I just told you,” Harriet said.
'Lauren is not doing herself any favors. The police automatically suspect people who run. Even if they don't believe you did whatever crime they're investigating, they'll start digging to see what you are guilty of.'
'She won't listen,” Harriet said. “You can only do so much for her if she won't take your advice.'
'If you see her, tell her I'm looking for her,” Robin said and pulled the door open. “I'm going to go see what I can learn about painting on fabric.'
Harriet and Carla passed the room Robin entered and found places at the back of the classroom where the thread lecture was just starting. Carla crossed her legs and bounced her foot as Ray Louise Hanson started talking about thread weight or thickness. Harriet found herself watching Carla's foot swing and thinking about Lauren's predicament. Carla started picking at a hangnail on her thumb.
After fifteen minutes, Harriet leaned toward Carla and whispered, “Let's get out of here.'
'Lead the way,” Carla agreed, and then followed as Harriet quietly slid out of her chair and headed for the door.
'I'm sorry, I can't concentrate today,” Harriet said once they were out in the hall.
'It's okay. I wasn't thinking about thread, either. I did have an idea about Lauren, though.'
'I'm all ears.” Harriet said. She was fresh out of ideas herself.
'Why don't we follow her brother?'
'She said she wasn't going back to his place.'
'Yeah, but did she say he wasn't going to help her anymore?'
'Good point. And you're right, there are all kinds of places she could be hiding here and who would know better than the janitor? Come on, I think I know where to start.'
They went to the dining cabin. Because of the lecture format, the usual breakfast and lunch times had been replaced by a serve-yourself buffet.
'Les seems to have kitchen duties at mealtimes. Let's go in and get a snack and scout it out.'
Les was nowhere to be seen when they arrived. Harriet made herself a cup of peppermint tea and Carla followed suit. She picked up a small plate from a stack, grabbed a pair of tongs and selected an assortment of fruits.
'Grab a couple of forks,” she said to Carla. “We can share this.'
There were two slices of apple left on the plate when Carla stopped eating mid-bite.
'Listen,” she whispered. Harriet complied. “I think I hear him in the kitchen.'
'Come on.” Harriet quickly picked up their dishes and carried them to the gray plastic bus tub. She led the way outside and around the cabin and past the compost pile.
'He's the compost guy. He'll show up out here to empty the compost buckets before lunch,” she explained.
The woods around the cabin provided plenty of cover for them to hide in. Harriet was careful to avoid stepping on a trillium flower. She tried to remember what Aunt Beth had told her about trilliums-something about their taking seven years to bloom. If she ever got out of here, she'd have to remember to ask her.
'Here he comes,” she said.
They watched as he carried two buckets of orange peels and apple cores and emptied them then went back for a third.
'Bet you didn't think you'd be hanging out at a compost pile when you signed up for classes at the folk art school. I feel guilty for dragging you into all this drama.'
'This is so different from my real life. It's been nice even with Lauren's stuff.” Carla's cheeks turned red. “No one ever hung out with me before, not even at a compost pile,” she said with a shy smile.
'Here he comes again,” Harriet said, and motioned toward the dining cabin.
Les was carrying a bucket in one hand and what looked like a cardboard takeout box in the other. He set the box down then emptied the bucket and placed it upside-down on one of the posts that held the chicken wire that enclosed the pile. He turned toward the rhododendron bush they were huddled behind. They hunkered down and held their collective breath.
He turned away and picked up the box. With one last glance around, he started off down a trail that led away from the dining cabin.
The three main pavilions at the folk art school formed a rough triangle in the center of the school property. If you drew a line between the ceramics building and the fiber arts building, the pond and meadow and Selestina's workshop lay directly west. Les was headed in the opposite direction, between the ceramics and photography buildings. Thankfully, that side of the property was heavily wooded, which caused the path to twist and turn around the larger trees and made it easy to follow at a distance.
The path split, and Les chose the narrower, less-traveled branch.
