Free Wild Goose Chase by Terri Thayer Page A

Claire,” Freddy slurred, bumping into the table as he finally returned, slopping his drink on the table. I looked up sharply before realizing he was talking metaphorically. He must have had several shots at the bar. He pointed across the room.
    “She always held court at that corner table over there. People came to her with their questions. She was like … a godfather, no godmother. The Godmother of Quilting.”
    I got an image of Claire behind a big desk, dispensing favors. “She made offers people couldn’t refuse?”
    He grimaced at my awful Brando. “No more,” Freddy continued morosely. “The balance has shifted.”
    I’d had enough drama for one day. “I’m out of here,” I said, pushing up from the table and grabbing my QP tote. I looked around to see who I needed to say goodbye to. I couldn’t see Eve. Myra was deep in conversation far across the room. Lark tried to catch my eye, but I looked away quickly. I told Freddy I’d see him tomorrow and left.
    Outside, it wasn’t dark yet. I still needed to go to the shop; I felt a pang of guilt that I’d been out of touch so long. There was the question of missing inventory that I still needed to figure out. A new owner, especially a corporate one, would insist that all the store accounts were reconciled.
    Was the next owner of Quilter Paradiso in that bar? I hadn’t come right out and asked anyone to buy my shop but I might have met the potential buyer tonight. It was going to take more investigation, but I felt like I’d made some headway. At least I knew more vendors by name than I had this morning.
    I started down the sidewalk toward the garage where I’d parked my car.
    Suddenly, Eve cut across the path in front of me. She was talking angrily into her cell. I had to stop short to avoid running into her.
    “That was money we needed,” I heard her say as she held the phone out in front of her, walkie-talkie style.
    Like so many people, she seemed to forget that her cell conversation was audible. She passed in front of me again, nearly tripping me. I tried to gauge where she was going next.
    “I want you to come home now. You need to get help, J.”
    This conversation was obviously a private one, despite the fact that it was being held in a very public place. I held back, resigned to waiting her out, hoping she would get off the phone soon.
    “Claire’s gone now, honey, so you don’t need to worry about the money,” Eve said.
    What were they talking about? Freddy’d said Claire lent money to Justine. I’d seen her outside the room. She could have been paying Claire back. Had Justine been the last person to see her alive?
    “When will you be home?” Eve shouted, as she wheeled around heading right for me. Behind her the sun was setting, the few clouds streaking the sky pink and red.
    Eve walked quickly past without registering that I was in front of her. My path to the parking garage was suddenly clear and I took advantage, dodging past Eve and heading up the concrete walk toward the structure. The last thing I heard was Eve’s exhortation to Justine.
    “Do not miss the fashion show, whatever you do.”

The small gravel parking lot behind Quilter Paradiso was full; I backed out and parked on the street in front. The shop was still busy, despite the fact that we were scheduled to close in a few minutes, at eight.
    I stepped outside my car, breathing in the cool air, trying to get the echoes of Eve’s phone conversation and the sad events at the quilt show out of my head. The sun had finished setting, leaving the sky the color and texture of navy blue velour.
    Lights from inside the shop glowed invitingly. The neon “Open” sign sent colorful contrails streaking down the glass. The front window was dominated by one of Ina’s signature Lone Star quilts. Neighborhood people often dropped in on their way home from errands to tell us how much they enjoyed our ever-changing window displays. I felt a swell of pride, not for me, but for my