The Quilt Before The Storm

“I hope so,” Harriet said.

“Why don’t you gals come on down for a break? Mavis went down the street to pick up doughnuts.” She looked at her watch. “Marjory should be getting here pretty soon, anyway.”

“How’s it looking down there?” Lauren asked.

“Come see for yourself. There’s still work to be done, but it’s taking shape.”

The Threads assembled in the larger classroom, each with their favorite hot beverage in front of them.

“Can anyone join this party?” Jane Morse said as she came into the room. “I ran into Mavis at the bakery, and she invited me to stop by for doughnuts. The shop’s looking better.”

“Marjory’s lucky the water stayed in the basement,” Connie said.

“She’s lucky to have a group of friends like you.”

Mavis came in with the doughnuts, which cut off all thought of conversation while everyone made their selections and took their first sugary bites.

Finally, Morse sat back in her chair.

“I hate to admit this, but given our extreme conditions and our unusual situation, I couldn’t have taken Ronald into custody without your help. Thank you.”

“That was all Harriet and Lauren,” Connie said.

“I know, but as usual, you all played a role along the way.”

“Cut to the chase,” Lauren prompted. “We’ve got more fabric to put away.”

Morse smiled. “I was going to give you a lecture on how you shouldn’t involve yourselves in police business, but I suppose it won’t do any good, and in any case, as I said, you did play a role, so I suppose you deserve to know what happened.”

“Ronald is the campground killer, right,” Lauren said.

“It does appear that way. Of course, he needs to be tried by a jury of his peers,” Morse reminded her.

“The question is why,” Mavis said.

“You know part of it,” Morse continued. “Pat Reigert told you her husband Richard was in trouble, headed for jail.”

“She said something about trying to buy back time,” Harriet said.

“He was one of three men involved in a Ponzi scheme. Ronald was one partner, and Duane was the third.”

“Duane?” Aunt Beth sounded shocked. “He seemed like such a nice man.”

“In the end, he was the only one with a shred of conscience. He wanted out, and the other two said no. They, of course, were living on the money people were investing in good faith, all the while mailing their victims monthly statements showing amazing gains.”

“Don’t those investors ever stop and wonder why their fund is doing so much better than everyone else’s?” Harriet asked.

“There are two kinds of people who fall for Ponzi schemes-the very greedy and the very naive.” Morse said.

“So, how did Duane end up in a homeless camp?” Harriet asked.

“All evidence points to the fact that Duane wanted out and he was trying to give back as much money as he could. That list on his phone was the people he was sending money to. It’s going to take months to sort out all the details, but we think he tricked the tricksters.”

“He was stealing their money?” Harriet clarified.

“That’s what it looks like. We think he slowly bled Richard and Ronald’s accounts down during his set-up phase, creating false bank statements for them-they all had accounts that appeared to be growing as a result of their investment skills. When things got to the point where checks were going to start bouncing, he cleaned out their accounts and got out of Dodge.”

“That’s bold.” Mavis said.

“Moving to a homeless camp was an inspired move,” Morse said. “He was there for months before Ronald caught up to him. Ronald and Richard had hired a private eye and eventually found him.

“We think Ronald had set up an offshore rainy-day fund Duane couldn’t access. Ronald summoned Richard with tales of Duane having money they could take back. It appears Ronald’s plan was to get rid of his two partners and leave the country. He got stuck here, and then he realized it was possible Duane might still have some of the money, so he tried to get the information out of Brandy. You know the rest.”

“Wow,” Carla said.

“What was that story about buying back time?” Harriet asked.

“In this sort of prosecution, there’s a relationship between how much money is recovered and length of sentence. So, that was true. If they had given all the money back, they would have had minimum prison sentences. That never happens, but depending on how greedy the players, they sometimes have enough money stashed around to soften the blow on their investors, and the government likes to give them some incentive to hand it over.”

“So, what about Richard and Pat trying to get Marjory’s inheritance?” Aunt Beth asked.

“Richard was sort of a junior partner in the scam. He was the salesman, if you will. His job was to talk up his gains to people and direct them to Roland and Duane. He wasn’t in on exactly how corrupt the business was. He knew it was too good to be true, but Ronald assured him the money would keep coming in if he kept his mouth shut.

“He only got as much money as they told all their customers they were getting. Ronald and Duane were getting much more. In the eyes of the feds, however, it didn’t matter if he was a junior partner or not-he was liable for the whole amount. He needed to get his hands on all the money he could.”

“There you have it,” Mavis said. “Crime doesn’t pay.”

“That’s for darn sure,” Marjory said as she joined the group. “And I didn’t even commit a crime. I just said I was going to kill my sister, but apparently, that’s not allowed in this state.”

Aunt Beth and then Mavis hugged her, and the rest of the group stood up and crowded around her. Harriet went to refill her mug and noticed a familiar silhouette in the window. She went into the store and saw Aiden peering in, a small dog in one hand, a thin leash in the other.

“Scooter’s going for his first walk outside, and I thought you’d want to be there for it,” he said. A stray lock of hair fell over his forehead, and without thinking, Harriet reached up and swept it back so she could look into his ice-blue eyes.

“You better go get your camera,” he said. “You’re going to want pictures of this for his baby book.”

Harriet pulled her cell phone with its on-board camera from her pocket and clicked off a quick picture of Aiden’s tentative smile.

“Don’t tug too hard,” he instructed as he set the little dog down on the sidewalk and handed Harriet the cord that connected to his little collar. “He’s not used to being tied down.”

“No, he isn’t,” she said and took the leash. “He definitely is not.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Arlene Sachitano started life as a military brat. Her dad retired and moved the family to the Pacific Northwest where she still lives. She started knitting, writing and sewing at a young age and still does all three. A thirty year diversion into the high tech industry, along with marriage and children, prevented her from taking action on her desire to write novels inspired by her love of Agatha Christie until recently.

Arlene spends her days writing her novels, babysitting her grandchildren, quilting, knitting and promoting her books. She is active in the Harriet Vane Chapter of Sisters in Crime in Portland, Oregon.

ABOUT THE ARTIST