Part 10 (1/2)

”Does she drive a yellow Mercedes?”

Miguel looked shocked.

I was right! Diane Davis and Dax Martin were having an affair.

”Did anyone else know about the coach and his girlfriend?”

He looked down and didn't answer.

”I know who she is, Miguel. Did her husband know-like the coach's wife said he did?”

He shuffled his feet in the dirt. ”Please, Mrs. Martha.”

I couldn't blame Miguel for not wanting to come right out and accuse his employer's wife of having an affair with the coach.

Dax Martin's murder was personal. Although I could sympathize, I could hardly see a small, pregnant woman beating her husband to death with a baseball bat, no matter how much he deserved it.

I doubted a rich and successful Beaumont parent, no matter how obnoxious, would kill Martin over his refusal to give their kid more playing time.

Diane's husband, Jefferson Davis, the control freak, was still the most likely suspect in Dax Martin's murder. If Javier and Graciela could confirm this, Ed would be out of the woods.

Of course this also meant Diane Davis could be in terrible danger. Who was to say Mr. Davis wouldn't turn his rage on her next? I worried for her safety.

”Did you tell any of this to the police?”

”No, Mrs. Martha. I mind my own business. They do not ask and I do not say.” He looked worried. ”Mrs. Martha? You know I could lose my job if they find out I talk to you. I have a family.”

I smiled and put my hand on his arm. ”I promise I won't tell the school you talked to me-not even if they send me to Guantanamo and pour water up my nose.”

He relaxed a little and gave me a slight smile. ”Gracias.”

CHAPTER 18.

I continued to walk around the adjacent park to burn calories and put some mileage on my new exercise shoes. I stepped off the path to take a closer look at the deep violet flowers of a Mexican sage plant growing in a sunny patch. I smelled it before I saw the pasty dog c.r.a.p now staining the sides of my clean white Skechers.

Back home again, I sc.r.a.ped most of the doody off my shoes and put them in the laundry room to wash for the second time in a week. I was disappointed to find out I'd been gone only twenty-five minutes, including my conversation with Miguel.

His story about Coach Martin's affair was too good to keep to myself, so I put on my pink Crocs and walked over to Ed's house, five doors away. Ed opened his door, looked at my Barbie-pink rubber shoes and smiled. ”Where's Ken?”

I walked inside. ”I have some serious news, but we've got to be careful who we tell. If anyone at the Beaumont School finds out he gave us this information, Miguel could lose his job.”

”Who's Miguel, and what did he say?”

”The groundskeeper. He confirmed Dax Martin had an affair with the headmaster's wife, Diane Davis, for the past several months. Then a week before he was killed, Martin had a huge argument with his pregnant wife. From what Miguel overheard, the enraged Mrs. Martin knew about the affair and told Jefferson Davis.”

”Do you think Martin's wife killed him?”

”That's the thing. She's small and very pregnant. Probably not able to beat a big man like Martin to death with a baseball bat.”

Ed looked impressed. ”So you were right. Dax Martin could have been killed by the jealous husband of Diane Davis, the high-and-mighty headmaster of Beaumont School. Great news!”

”Well, great news for you. Not so much for Martin. He's still dead.”

”Yeah. There's that. Wouldn't it be sweet to see the school taken down a peg by a scandal?”

Ed's phone rang. He had a brief conversation and hung up. ”That was Simon. He's contacted a friend in the US Attorney's Office. He should have some new information in time for our meeting tomorrow.”

I got up to leave. ”Great. Hang in there, Ed. Things are beginning to look a whole lot better for you.”

I made a quick trip to the market to get all the ingredients for dinner, including a loaf of braided challah and some kosher wine. Uncle Isaac would never sing the Shabbat blessings with just any wine.

I peeled fresh Idaho potatoes on top of a newspaper for easy cleanup. Then I shredded them in my food processor with fresh onion and prepared a kugel to go in the oven later in the afternoon. Even though I had remodeled my kitchen a little more than a year ago, I mostly used my microwave to prepare meals. Still, I hadn't lost the knack for cooking traditional Jewish dishes.

At about eleven, Lucy and Birdie showed up with quilts over their arms just as I put the brisket in my new stainless-steel oven.

”Coffee?” I asked.

Lucy shook her head and I followed as she and Birdie walked toward my sewing room. ”Can't stay. We've just set up a workshop in the parish hall at Saint Winifred's. We've got about ten quilters and three sewing machines. Seven will be tying and three will sew on bindings. We brought you the five quilts that were already finished.”

I examined the quilts lying on my cutting table. The blocks were simple Windmills, a square of eight triangles with their points meeting in the center. The alternating dark and light fabrics created a whirligig pattern. The backings were pieced with spare yardage and everything was tied together with perle cotton embroidery thread. Binding had been sewn on by machine, and the resulting blankets were utilitarian but cheerful.

Birdie tugged on her braid. ”Martha dear, do you have any extra batting? We may not have enough.”

I pulled out a bolt of low-loft pure cotton batting-as tall as I was-from the closet. Batting was usually sold in cuts just big enough for one quilt. Since I made so many quilts, I bought in bulk. ”There should be enough for about six more quilts here.”

Birdie felt the batting between her expert fingers and made a face. ”We can't use all cotton, dear. Pure cotton batting needs to be st.i.tched in place so it doesn't separate. We need a polyester or poly-cotton blend that won't pull apart between the ties.”

Of course I knew what Birdie meant. I'd seen some antique quilts tied every four inches. Over years of use, big lumps of cotton had bunched in between the ties. ”Sorry. I can't help you, but I'll give you a donation to buy some more today.”

Lucy smiled and held out her hand. ”Seems only fair since this whole thing was your idea in the first place.”

”By the way, I found out I was right about Diane Davis having an affair with Dax Martin.”

Birdie perked up. ”What's all this? Are you talking about that dead coach you found? Lucy told me about the young woman you suspected he had an affair with.”

”How'd you find out?” Lucy demanded.

”I'm sworn to secrecy. But, believe me, I'm one hundred percent certain.”

”You amaze me, Martha Rose.”

I laughed. ”I amaze myself sometimes.”

After lunch I took a break from cooking and drove to the Boulevard to find Hilda. I wanted to know if she'd notified the people we were coming on Sunday. She was sitting with Rafi inside his restaurant. They were sipping something cold, and Rafi had just made her laugh. They both saw me at the same time and waved me over to the table.