Free Quilt Trip: A Southern Quilting Mystery by Elizabeth Craig

Everything looked much the same at first glance—Muriel’s body was still in her bed, the room was just as tidy. But on further inspection, it appeared as if someone had been in the room in a hurry. Drawers were still slightly open; a few ruffled papers were visible. And Muriel’s candle remained at the side of her bed. So whoever had been in the room hadn’t been on the errand to retrieve Muriel’s candle. Something seemed different, though. Yet Beatrice wasn’t familiar enough with the room to know what it was.
    Beatrice turned to head out. She’d have to see if someone else—maybe Alexandra or Colton—could offer more information about what was ordinarily in Muriel’s room. She spun to see Colton there, and gasped.
    “I thought we were leaving this room locked,” he said, frowning. “And I thought you were downstairs still doing the interviews.” He had his hands on his hips and was still wearing the immaculate dark suit, a carefully pressed handkerchief barely visible from the front pocket. He looked as if he might be headed for a corporate board meeting instead of waiting for rescue in a decaying mansion.
    “You startled me! I needed a break before I talked to Holly . . . that’s all. I came upstairs to put my feet up until it was time for supper and I saw that Muriel’s door was cracked. You hadn’t noticed that?”
    Colton stiffened. “You mean someone broke in here?”
    “Could they? Or are there keys to these doors lying around somewhere?”
    “Maybe Alexandra knows of some keys, but I don’t.” Colton backed up a little to study the bedroom lock. “As I thought, these locks would be very easy to pick. Someone would only have to stick in almost any object and turn it, and the door would open. We all have keys—someone could easily put in one of their keys and fumble around until the lock turned.”
    “Very comforting,” Beatrice said grimly. How were they going to stay safe? How were they going to protect the crime scene?
    “So someone—obviously in a hurry before anyone wondered where they were—hurried up here, picked the lock, and entered Muriel’s bedroom,” said Colton, mulling it over. He glanced around the bedroom.
    “Do you see anything out of place?” asked Beatrice. “Or anything missing? I can tell that the papers in the desk have been riffled through.”
    Colton nodded slowly. “Muriel’s bedside table has been tampered with. Her bottle of sleeping pills is gone.”
    “The sleeping pills?” Beatrice said quickly. “That prescription bottle that was beside the bed?” Her heart sank as she turned to look at the nearly empty bedside table.
    “Yes. Don’t you remember it there? You’d wondered if maybe she’d deliberately taken an overdose.”
    “Is there anything else missing?” Beatrice asked.
    Colton glanced around the room, then said cautiously, “Offhand, I can’t tell if anything else is missing. But then, I’m trying to go off my memory from this morning—and I was in such shock that I wasn’t as observant as I usually am.”
    “What could someone have been searching for in Muriel’s desk?”
    Colton frowned, studying the open drawers and the messy papers. “Maybe Muriel’s will? Notes she made regarding her will? I can’t think what other documents someone would have been interested in.”
    “While we’re here, we should at least get the candle,” said Beatrice. She walked over to retrieve it.
    Colton and Beatrice left the room. Beatrice handed Colton the candle and used the small towel to lock the door and shut it behind them. “Not that the lock will keep anyone out, clearly, but at least it will slow them down and give us a chance to spot someone trying to break in.”
    Colton said quietly, “What do you think we should do now?”
    “Should we organize a search for the sleeping pills?” asked Beatrice.
    “Those pills will be almost impossible to find,” said Colton. “Think about it. They could shake them out of the pill bottle