Part 14 (1/2)
”Arminda, Harrison Ivey. Sorry I missed your call this morning. Just thought I'd check and see how you were....” The young doctor hesitated, as if searching for words. ”...Well...I'm glad you suffered no long-lasting effects from your fall. But if you need to get in touch, you can reach me here at the clinic or at home. Just leave a message, and I'll get back to you.” And he left his home telephone number.
Augusta stood at the foot of the stairs, listening to every word, and if angels could smirk, her expression would come close. ”It does one good to know there are still such caring physicians,” she said. ”I wonder if he makes house calls.”
”For goodness' sake, Augusta, he's only being thorough.”
”Of course he is. But aren't you going to call him back?”
”What for? There's nothing wrong with me. My head's just fine.”
”I wasn't thinking about your head,” she said, and with a flounce of her skirt, she left me standing there.
But Harrison Ivey wasn't my priority just then, and when Augusta disappeared into the attic-to prowl around, she said, and see what might turn up-I did the same downstairs.
The day was gray and misty and did little to lift my spirits. I wandered from room to room trying to shrug off the feeling of something missing, something left undone. Augusta had prevented me from falling into a void in the physical sense, but I would have to be responsible for taking care of the other.
I put on my all-weather jacket with a hood that had survived since college and set out walking for town and Papa's Armchair. It was time for my cousin and me to talk.
I found her sitting at Mildred's desk in the back of the shop with an apple in one hand and a calculator in the other, and if her face drooped any lower, she'd be under the rug.
I nodded toward the apple. ”What's the matter? Find half a worm?”
”Worse than that. I can't even afford half a workman at the prices these contractors charge. I've called just about everybody in the area who would even consider the job, and the three who bothered to give me an estimate are out of the ballpark as far as we're concerned.”
I sat on the stool across from her. ”Exactly what do you need to have done?”
”For starters, an opening in the connecting wall between the bookshop and the tearoom, restrooms installed and a counter to divide the kitchen s.p.a.ce from the eating area.” Gatlin clicked off the calculator and tossed it aside. ”Dave and I can do the rest ourselves.”
”I can help,” I told her. ”I took a course in wallpapering one time.”
My cousin laughed. ”But can you knock one down?”
”No, but I might know of somebody who could.” I told her about Maureen Foster's husband, R. T. ”The contractor he was working for went out of business, and he's looking for a job. From what his wife told me, I think he'd like to go out on his own.”
”Do you know if he's any good?” Gatlin asked.
”I wouldn't be surprised,” I said. ”At least it won't hurt to give him a call.” If Augusta had anything to do with this setup, the man came with credentials of the highest order.
I gave my cousin the number and waited while she explained to Maureen Foster exactly what she had in mind. But after a few minutes I found her looking at me strangely.
”Why, yes, she's fine,” Gatlin said. ”No, she didn't say anything about it...and when was this?” Looks as dark as swamp mud came my way. ”Thank you for telling me,” she added, speaking to Maureen but glaring still at me. ”We thought it would be safe to let her out of her padded cell for a while, but I can see we're going to have to double the security.”
I was glad Maureen had a sense of humor. I was beginning to lose mine. ”You don't believe somebody tried to send me down the hillside by the short route?”
”Of course I do, silly! What's hard for me to believe is why you didn't tell me.”
”You have enough to worry about with starting this business and a family to take care of.”
”Dear G.o.d, Minda, you are my family! Didn't you think I'd care?” Gatlin jumped up from her seat and grabbed both my hands.
”It's just that-well, I didn't think you'd take it seriously. I've been trying to discover what the Mystic Six and the quilt they made had to do with what happened to Otto. I think it might be connected to the way Annie Rose died. You sort of blew me off, Gatlin.”
”I'm sorry.” She gave my hand a squeeze. ”I didn't mean to. I guess I just don't understand why you think there's a connection.”
”That's because I didn't tell you everything,” I said, and told her about finding the flower-star pin in the bathroom stall next to Otto's. ”I was afraid it might put you in some kind of danger if you knew. Guess I should have told you sooner. It's scary without you, Gatlin. d.a.m.n it! Dave, Lizzie, and Faye will just have to share!”
”My shoulders are pretty wide,” she said, but I couldn't miss the troubled look in her eyes.
”Hey, guess what? I have shoulders, too,” I said.
Over coffee at the Heavenly Grill, I told Gatlin about my suspicions concerning the group of young women who made a quilt n.o.body wanted, and the not-so-heavenly happenings in present-day Angel Heights.
”Obviously somebody thinks you're getting too close to the truth,” she said. ”Do you think they know you found that pin? You've got to be more careful, Minda. Why don't you stay with us until we get to the bottom of this?”
I thought of the ”rock” in her pullout sofa and graciously declined. ”I'm fine, really. Keeping the doors locked, and the police are good about checking the house. (Naturally I didn't mention Augusta.) Promise me you won't say anything to Vesta.”
Gatlin nodded and frowned at me. ”Tell me about the quilt. Why do you think it has something to do with the way Annie Rose died?”
I told her about my visit to Mamie Estes. ”She said it was Annie Rose's quilt. Said she didn't ever want to see it again, and her daughter-in-law told me Mamie never talked about it, kept it put away.
Gatlin turned her coffee mug in her hands. ”What about the others?”
”You were there when we spoke with Martha Kate, Pluma Griffin's niece, when she told us Mamie Estes was still alive,” I reminded her. ”And you know about Irene Bradshaw's mother. Aunt Pauline, Vesta called her. You'll have to admit Irene acted kinda spooky about your buying Dr. Hank's building. Maybe there's something in there she doesn't want us to find.”
I was surprised to see Gatlin smiling as she shook her head.
”What's so funny?”
”Vesta finally told me why Irene wanted Hank's side of the building left alone.” She leaned forward over the table and lowered her voice. ”She thinks Bonnie's medical records are in there.”
”So?”
”According to our grandmother, Bonnie Bradshaw was what they referred to as 'hot to trot.' In other words, she slept around. Rumor has it she had an abortion when she was in college, and Dr. Hank took care of it.” Gatlin shrugged. ”Oh, it was all on the up and up. A legal abortion. Bonnie claimed she was raped, and Dr. Hank cleared the way for it, only Vesta says n.o.body believed it.”
”I didn't know Queen Victoria was still on the throne,” I said. ”All this must've happened close to twenty years ago. Why would Irene even give a fig? Why would anybody?”
”Because of the judge,” Gatlin said. ”Bonnie's husband, Robinson Sherwood. Strict Baptist upbringing, and you can bet your Sunday shoes he doesn't know about the abortion. Bonnie's never been able to conceive, and I don't know this for sure, but I've heard it's probably due to a pelvic infection from her earlier flings. Vesta says they've applied for adoption, and if this got out, it might ruin their chances for that as well as cause a rift in the marriage.”
”But even if the records are still there, they'll be destroyed. Besides, it sounds like a lot of people already know it. It's old news, Gatlin. If Bonnie's husband hasn't heard it by now, I doubt he ever will. Poor, silly Irene! I can't believe she'd worry about something as unlikely as that.” And then I remembered that it had been Irene Bradshaw who had given Mildred the over-the-counter anti-acid pills the night she got so sick.
”What about that woman in Georgia?” Gatlin asked. ”Flora...somebody's granddaughter.”
”It all comes back to her,” I said. ”Mamie says Flora had the quilt when she died, and her gravestone is engraved with that six-petaled flower with the star in the center-just like the pin they wore, but Peggy-that's her granddaughter-denies knowing anything about it. Got right testy about it.”
Gatlin sighed and shoved her cup aside. ”Spooky.”
”I know. I dread facing the witch again, but it looks like I don't have a choice.”