Part 28 (1/2)

”The councilman used his influence to bypa.s.s the permit process. It wasn't hard to do. The head of Building and Safety has a kid in Beaumont. There is the possibility, though, that because the stadium was built illegally, the school will be forced to tear it down and restore the land to open s.p.a.ce. The fraud division is working on that right now. As far as we're concerned, Dax Martin's killer has been caught and our job is over.”

Lucy said, ”That would make a lot of people around this neighborhood awfully happy, wouldn't it, Martha?”

I thought about the people who were still homeless. ”It's a beginning.” Then I asked Beavers, ”What was the deal with Noah Kaplan and Diane Davis?”

”Kaplan didn't do anything worse than leak information about the investigation. He had no clue he was dealing with the killer. He just thought he was talking to his old school friend. The captain gave him a warning and a lecture about poor judgment.”

Through the fog enveloping my brain, I remembered something. ”I think you should know your partner told Diane Davis you were a 'stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'”

Arlo shrugged. ”Was that before or after he was pulled from the case for leaking information to the killer?”

I giggled. Happy place.

”The US Attorney's Office is all over the misappropriation of public funds and the mismanagement of public resources by the Army Corps of Engineers. The commanding officer of the Los Angeles office, Colonel Trane, has already been replaced. Between the City of Los Angeles and the Feds, there are enough crimes and malfeasance to keep the prosecutors busy for the next decade.”

My eyes got heavier and Beavers's voice receded into the distance until it was only a droning sound and then nothing. I floated in sweet oblivion for the next few hours.

Lucy gently touched my shoulder, waking me at seven. ”Come on, Martha. Time to eat some of that nice soup Yossi brought.”

I opened my eyes and found the room filled with bouquets of flowers. I turned to Lucy in amazement. ”Where'd these come from?”

She smiled. ”Your friends and neighbors. I guess Sonia got the word out.”

Good old Sonia. The ATT and CNN of our community.

I stretched my stiff body and walked into the kitchen, where a steaming matzo ball the size of New York sat in a bowl of savory chicken soup. When she opened the refrigerator to pull out the loaf of rye bread, the shelves were filled with covered ca.s.seroles. The countertops all around me were laden with plates of brownies, homemade cupcakes, and chocolate chip cookies.

I looked at her. ”Really? These all arrived when I was sleeping?”

She smiled. ”I had to put a sign on the door that said, 'Please knock softly. Do not ring bell.' People are grateful, Martha.”

The following day, Sat.u.r.day, Ed threw a party and asked Sonia to get the word out and invite all the neighbors. Two folding banquet tables stood under the mulberry tree in Ed's front yard topped with barbequed burgers and hot dogs. I insisted on donating all the food everyone had so generously given me.

People arrived with their folding chairs, tables, and umbrellas; the lawn and sidewalk in front of Ed's house and three of his nearest neighbors were filled with dozens of chatting adults and playful children. The teenagers sat in the primo spot on Ed's roof underneath the mulberry branches, while Parker told them the story of how his quick thinking saved my life.

Ed thanked everyone for showing up and gave a little speech about friends.h.i.+p, neighborhood, and community. He asked me if I wanted to say a few words.

Flanked by my friends Lucy and Birdie, I praised Tony, Sonia, and the Eyes of Encino. I thanked everyone for their flowers and food. Per Lucy's insistence, Crusher stayed his distance, although he watched my every move.

A cheer went up from the crowd when Simon Aiken announced his law firm would sue the Army Corps of Engineers and the Beaumont School pro bono to remove the baseball stadium and restore the wildlife reserve on behalf of the community.

Finally Crusher walked over to where Tony sat on his Chair-A-Go-Go to make him an honorary Valley Eagle. He presented Tony with a new battery for his scooter and a black leather vest with VE painted on the back in purple letters. Tony got the biggest cheer of all when he put on the vest and stuck out his scrawny arm to b.u.mp fists with all the other Eagles.

After another twenty minutes, I walked back to my house with Lucy and Birdie. My poor Corolla was gone from the driveway, and all the broken gla.s.s had been swept away. A loaner BMW from Lucy's husband, Ray, sat waiting for me to use.

Back inside, Birdie made a pot of tea while Lucy put fresh linens in Quincy's room, started a load of laundry, and packed up her things to go home.

”You sure you're going to be okay by yourself now? Those pain pills are rather strong.”

”Yeah. The pain isn't so bad now. I'm done with the pills. Besides, I need to be functional. Tomorrow's Sunday and Quincy's coming home.”

After they left, I carried one of the flower arrangements into Quincy's room. Then I ran my hand slowly over the b.u.mpy texture of the Grandmother's Flower Garden Quilt on top of the bed. My little girl was coming home for a visit after a long time away. While she was here, she'd get all my attention. The other thing-my Beavers/Crusher dilemma-would just have to wait for another day.

I hung some fresh towels in the bathroom and spotted the scale on the floor. Two weeks had pa.s.sed since I joined Weight Watchers. After all the running around, skipped meals, and physical activity, my jeans felt a lot looser. I stepped on the scale and smiled when I saw the numbers. Tomorrow Charlissa would give me a gold star.

Sometime during the middle of the night, I awoke to the smell of smoke. We were in the height of the fire season in Southern California, and the mountains ringing the San Fernando Valley were covered in dry forest and chaparral, the perfect fuel for out-of-control brush fires. The Santa Ana winds coming from the northeast had been responsible for the recent heat wave and were notorious for fanning small brush fires into conflagrations that could burn for days, consuming thousands of acres. I was afraid the smoke meant one of those fires was close by.

As I got out of bed and put on my robe, the guttering of a motorcycle receded into the distance. I opened the front door and looked to the south for signs of fire: a pink light in the night sky or a corona of flames on a mountain ridge. Even though the smell of smoke was strong, I saw nothing unusual. The winds had died down and all of Encino seemed to be sleeping peacefully. So I turned around and went through the house to the back door to see if the fire was burning in the north.

As soon as I opened the back door, flickering light came from the direction of the baseball stadium. I rushed outside in my bare feet to get a better look. At the edge of the field, the maroon-and-gold two-story monstrosity-the place where Dax Martin was king, the place where he and Diane carried on their affair-was in flames. Fortunately, because the air was still, our houses were in no immediate danger from the fire spreading. Fire House Eighty-Three was just a few blocks away. If I called right away, it was possible they could save the building.

I walked back in my house, put on some water, and placed a bag of Taylor's Scottish Breakfast Tea in a cup. All was quiet as I waited for the water to boil. After about five minutes, I brewed the tea, stirred in some milk and sugar, and sat on the sofa to enjoy a slow, satisfying cup. Then I picked up the phone and dialed 911.

Please turn the page for a quilting tip.

from Mary Marks!.

CHOOSING A.

NEEDLE AND.

THREAD.

You've pieced the top of your quilt and made a ”sandwich” by laying it over a backing with a layer of batting (wadding, if you're British) in between. Now it's time to st.i.tch the three layers together. What do you do?

First you choose the right needle. Needles come in different shapes and sizes. The shapes are determined by what you're going to use them for: embroidery, applique, basting, or quilting, to name a few. The sizes are numbered. (Note: the larger the number, the smaller the needle.) ”Betweens” are the preferred needle for quilting. A size twelve between is the shortest at one inch. I prefer to use the hybrid size eleven, which has the short length of the twelve but the bigger eye of the ten. (Larger eyes are easier to thread.) Why choose the shortest needle? Small needles make small st.i.tches, and the mark of a skillful quilter is in her small, even st.i.tches.

Now you're ready to choose the right thread. Avoid thread made with polyester. Polyester is a hard synthetic fiber that will eventually saw through the soft cotton fibers of your quilt. Choose an all-cotton thread instead.

Threads are also numbered; the smaller the number, the heavier the thread. Regular cotton sewing thread has a weight of fifty, and is more easily broken. For durable quilting st.i.tches, I use a quilting weight thread, which is around thirty.

In the olden days, women used to run their thread through beeswax to prevent it from tangling while they st.i.tched. The drawback of using beeswax is that it can deposit a yellow residue on your quilt. Nowadays some quilting thread comes already coated with a glace finish, which accomplishes the same thing without leaving a residue.

In today's world, hand st.i.tching has been largely replaced by quilting machines. But in times past, women used to compete with each other to be the best quilter, aiming at twenty st.i.tches to the inch. I find that seven to ten st.i.tches to the inch, evenly s.p.a.ced, produce a stunning quilt.

With the right tools and lots of practice, you can produce a hand-quilted work of art that will be treasured for years to come.

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of.

Mary Marks's next Quilting Mystery.