Free Make Quilts Not War by Arlene Sachitano Page B

veggies.”
    Mavis looked at her over the top of the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.
    “Or I have some brownies in the freezer. It would only take a minute to thaw them in the microwave.”
    “That would do nicely,” Mavis said and continued putting coffee into the filter basket on the coffee machine.
    “Does anyone know the woman who was shot?” Robin was asking when Harriet entered her studio carrying a plate of warm brownies and a stack of paper napkins.
    Carla and Connie shook their heads no.
    “She used to come in the video store,” DeAnn said, referring to her family’s business. “I haven’t seen her lately, but then again, I haven’t been working much since we got Kissa.”
    DeAnn and her husband had adopted a baby girl the previous fall and that, along with her two sons’ activities, meant she was too busy to help out at the store on a regular basis.
    “I don’t remember anything out of the ordinary. She generally rented from the new-arrivals shelf,” She shrugged. “Not that movie habits tell you anything.”
    No one else knew Pamela, and the group sat, each one lost in her own thoughts, as Harriet carried the brownie plate to each one in turn, handing out a napkin as she went.
    Mavis came in with the coffee carafe a moment later.
    “This is decaf, and there’s hot water in the teapot if anyone prefers that,” Mavis said as she filled cups and handed them around.
    The outside studio door opened, and Aunt Beth came in fol lowed by Jenny. Harriet got up and took their coats, while Mavis handed them cups of hot coffee. Connie pulled two more chairs into the loose circle they had formed in the middle of the studio space.
    “Did Jorge sell a lot of food?” Mavis asked.
    “He did okay,” Beth answered. “Most people left early.”
    The group fell silent again.
    “Jenny,” Aunt Beth began, “can you tell us what’s got you so rattled?”
    “A woman was killed tonight,” Jenny said, her voice tight.
    “Everyone knows how upsetting that is,” Harriet said. “But if I understood you right, you didn’t even know her.”
    “If you had come five minutes later, that could have been me.”
    “Or the killer could have had to wait five more minutes,” Harriet said gently. “If you didn’t know Pamela, how do you know she wasn’t the intended target?”
    “I don’t, I suppose.”
    “Would you like us to contact your husband?” Mavis asked.
    “He and Mark are on a hunting trip in Africa. They’ve been planning it for two years. I’m not going to interrupt them for this. I’m just a little shaken. I’ll be fine after I’ve had time to process this and rest a little.”
    Robin had been silently studying Jenny, Harriet noticed. As a lawyer, she had probably had more experience deciphering whether people were being truthful or not.
    “When I was in law school,” Robin finally said, “we had a class on body language. You know, to help us tell if a witness was being truthful or not.”
    “I am not some kind of criminal,” Jenny snapped and started to rise.
    Mavis stilled her with her hand.
    “I’m sure that’s not what Robin is saying,” she said.
    “Actually, I’m not saying you’re a criminal,” Robin said to Jenny, “But I am saying you’re not being truthful. We’re not the police, and I’m not your attorney—we’re your friends. If you’re in some kind of trouble, maybe we can help you. We can’t do anything if you don’t tell us what’s going on.”
    “I don’t know what’s going on,” Jenny said.
    “That I believe,” Robin said.
    “There must be something that’s got you spooked,” Harriet said.
    “It’s the clothes,” Jenny finally said, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
    “The clothes?” Harriet echoed.
    Aunt Beth got up and crossed to Harriet’s desk, where she picked up a box of tissues and brought it back, plucking out two and pressing them into Jenny’s hand.
    “I had an outfit very like the one I was wearing