house?' It took nearly five minutes to find out that all of my grandmother's keys were accounted for, and to explain that nothing was wrong. But I was a little creeped out by the fact that Marc had a key to someplace he didn't belong. When I hung up I looked to Jesse, who seemed as confused as I was.
'So how did Marc get the key?' Jesse asked.
'Why did Marc get the key? That's what I want to know.' Jesse dropped the key in an evidence bag. 'I'll find out. And for the last time, I'll drop you home and you'll stay out of this investigation.'
I nodded. 'No. Back at the shop.'
'Good. And from now on when you have an idea, or a clue or a hunch, or anything involved with this case, you can call me at the sheriff's office. I'm always happy to listen to a concerned citizen.'
'Message received,' I said. 'I'll just be at the shop checking on Tom's progress.'
'He's a good guy, and a hard worker. Eleanor is better off having him do the shop than depending on Marc.'
'I don't understand something. Why would my grandmother have hired Marc if he wasn't up for the task? She's not a fool.'
Jesse shrugged. 'Marc was good to her. He helped keep that old house of hers from falling in.' Jesse turned off the lights in Marc's apartment, and I felt the darkness around me. 'And he needed someone to believe in him. Your grandmother is a sucker for that kind of thing.'
'Isn't that a good thing?'
'It is, most of the time. But sometimes it gets you into trouble.'
'Is that another way Eleanor and I are alike?' I asked. I looked up at him and we locked eyes. I was looking for something personal in his eyes, but all I got was the solid, emotionless stare of a cop. Jesse walked out of the apartment.
I stood for a second in the dark and then followed Jesse out.
CHAPTER 42
Jesse dropped me off in front of Someday Quilts just as Tom and his helper were coming back from lunch.
It was clear that a lot of work had been done in just a few hours, but the place looked a mess.
'We framed the entryway between the two spaces,' Tom pointed out with a shy pride that I found endearing. 'We have to do some patchwork, of course, and clean up, but we should be ready to paint Wednesday.'
'That fast?'
'We're in a race, aren't we?' He smiled. 'I'm determined to be done with the remodel before your grandmother is finished with the quilt.'
The quilt. I'd completely forgotten to cut out the little flowers Nancy had given me, and I knew that I could not go home without them.
'I'm going to be downstairs if you need me,' I said as I grabbed the bits of fabric from my purse.
Downstairs Nancy had done a good job of cleaning out the office. All the boxes that had cluttered it were gone and it was a perfect empty space for my assigned task. I sat on the floor and set out my tools in a row: the template, the fabric, a pencil and scissors. Nancy had told me to draw the flowers on the wrong side of the fabric and cut them out on the line. Easy. So I laid the fabric down on the floor and drew around the plastic template of a flower. Then I cut exactly along the pencil marks. It was simple, and by the sixth flower it was really boring as well.
I lay on the floor with the pile of fabric under my head and listened to the work upstairs. I could hear a power saw cutting wood for something, then lots of clanging and moving about. Jesse had been right to recommend his former brother-in-law for the job. He was serious and committed and really knew what he was doing.
It made me wonder what noises Marc would have been making had he been up there doing the work. It was obvious to me now that he was all enthusiasm and ambition but he probably didn't have the skills to do a good job. I thought about what Jesse had said, that Eleanor had given him the chance because she liked the idea of someone rising to the meet the challenge, as she had done. She must have wanted Marc to feel pride in having accomplished a difficult task. Maybe then he would have moved beyond his reputation as town womanizer.
But someone else didn't see such possibilities in Marc. To that person he was dangerous and expendable. I stared at the ceiling and listened to the noise so I didn't have to think about who that person might be. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. I turned my head toward the doorway of the office and realized what it was.
I reached out and grabbed the piece of green paper. It was a twenty dollar bill. It seemed careless of Eleanor and Nancy to have money lying on the floor near the back wall, but with the chaos that once ruled this room, I guess it was possible.
I sat up and started on my fabric flowers again. However these turned out, at least I wouldn't get in trouble for not having held up my end of the bargain.
I had to admit that the flowers were quite pretty, even if my edges weren't cut as precisely as Nancy or Eleanor would have done them. I laid each one out to make a kind of bouquet. Natalie was right. The entire time I was working on my flowers I hadn't thought about my on-again, off-again fiance, the murder of the town gigolo or any of the dozen or so secret spats and sad stories I'd encountered in Archers Rest. I just thought about the flowers. Eleanor and the other quilters in her group were constantly praised for industriousness. But all the time they were secretly using quilting to take a break from life. Well, I wasn't going to tell anyone.
I was on my last flower when I heard Tom closing up the shop, so I headed upstairs and home to Eleanor. I dropped my finished flowers on the kitchen table where she was sitting having tea and going over the day's receipts. I sat at the table while she looked through my work.
'These aren't half bad,' she said. 'Though I think the shape may be a tad traditional for the kind of quilt we're making.'
'These are the shapes Nancy told me to cut,' I protested. 'I just spent the better part of the day cutting those.'
'Well, that's the artistic process isn't it?' She smiled. 'We started off with a traditional look, but it's moving in a different direction.' When she saw my disappointed face, she added, 'I'm sure we'll find a use for them.'
'If you don't, I'll make my own quilt with them.' The words came out of my mouth quickly, and to my surprise I even meant them. I liked my flowers too much to let them end up on a scrap heap.
I could see Eleanor smiling, but she only said, 'How were things at the shop?'
'Good. But I found this,' I said as I held up the twenty dollar bill. 'It was on the floor in the office.'
'Well, it didn't come from the shop's deposits.' She pushed the large binder containing the shop's balances toward the middle of the table. 'Every penny accounted for since we opened the shop.'
It was a neatly organized system, with debts in red ink and income in black, both printed in the neatest of handwriting. 'This is kind of old-fashioned. You should do this on a computer. It would be so much easier.'
Eleanor leaned over the notebook. 'It's worked for me for years.' She looked up at me and smiled. 'But I suppose we could use some updating. We'll have more inventory now.'
It was an unexpected concession, but it also felt like she was beginning to see me as more than a granddaughter. Maybe I was becoming an ally, a partner. Eleanor peered into her empty cup.
'More tea?' I asked. She nodded. Okay, maybe she didn't see me as a partner, maybe she saw me as the help, but at least she saw me as capable of something. That had to be an improvement. I got up and put her kettle on.
'I ran into Bernie,' I said tentatively, figuring she'd find out anyway. 'I wanted to take a peek into Marc's apartment.'
I waited for a scolding, but none came. Instead she sat up and gave me a curious stare. 'Find anything?'
'A note asking to see Marc. Jesse said it didn't mean anything.'
'You were there with Jesse?' The curious stare had turned into astonishment.
'More like he found me there,' I admitted. 'He thinks I'm interfering with his investigation.'
'You are.'
