Tumbling Blocks Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  THE SADDLEMAKER’S WIFE

  EARLENE FOWLER

  PRAISE FOR

  Earlene Fowler’s Agatha Award-winning Benni Harper Mysteries

  “Fowler’s charm as a storyteller derives from the way she unpredictably sews . . . disparate plots together, just like one of those quilts in Benni’s museum.”

  —The Washington Post

  “Fresh, thought provoking, and honest . . . Engages readers on several levels . . . Dialogue is smart, sharp, and witty. Familiar characters reveal surprising secrets; minor characters are colorful and well defined.”

  —Ventura County (CA) Star

  “Readers will relish the author’s appealing picture of ranch life and small-town affairs, of barbecues and fiestas, of jocular locals and warm family and friends.”

  —*Publishers Weekly

  “Benni’s warmhearted openness and her deep faith make her an engaging companion, indeed.”—Booklist

  “Fowler’s plots can be as outrageous as Ellery Queen’s, her turf is Ross Macdonald’s, and her tone is heir to Grafton and Paretsky. It’s quite a combination.”—Nashville Scene

  Berkley Prime Crime Books by Earlene Fowler

  THE SADDLEMAKER’S WIFE

  The Benni Harper Mysteries

  FOOL’S PUZZLE

  IRISH CHAIN

  KANSAS TROUBLES

  GOOSE IN THE POND

  DOVE IN THE WINDOW

  MARINER’S COMPASS

  SEVEN SISTERS

  ARKANSAS TRAVELER

  STEPS TO THE ALTAR

  SUNSHINE AND SHADOW

  BROKEN DISHES

  DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS

  TUMBLING BLOCKS

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  TUMBLING BLOCKS

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  Copyright © 2007 by Earlene Fowler.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-09972-8

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  The name BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the BERKLEY PRIME CRIME design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For

  Ruth “Babs” Gibson

  and

  Barbara Peters

  with my love and gratitude

  Acknowledgments

  Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.

  Isaiah 46:4

  My gratitude to: God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit.

  Also my thanks to:

  Ellen Geiger, my agent, a most gracious and truly fine human being.

  Christine Zika, a gem among editors.

  George Long, the wonderful art director who designs and coordinates my incredible covers. You are the best.

  Cheryl Griesbach and Stanley Martucci, the artists who have painted all my covers. Your work is always beautiful.

  Tina and Tom Davis, my good friends and Webmasters, I will always be indebted to you.

  Margrit and David Hall for their help in how to “execute” the perfect murder.

  You gotta have friends, and I am blessed with good and faithful ones: Beebs and Millee, Jo Ellen Heil, Nini Hill, Jo-Ann Mapson, Karen Olson, Lela Satterfield, Kathy Vieira, Laura Ross Wingfield.

  Always with love to my husband, Allen. It’s been a long and winding road. I’m blessed to be traveling it with you.

  A Note from the Author

  When I started the Benni Harper series in 1992, the first book, Fool’s Puzzle, was written in “real time.” It was 1992 in Benni’s life as well as mine. Time in a long-running series is tricky. Since it often takes a book almost two years from the time the author starts writing it to the point when it is actually in the reader’s hands, time sequences can become confusing. Each author deals with this dilemma in a different way. I decided from the beginning that I would age my characters more slowly than I and my readers were aging. With Dove being seventy-five in the first book, I wanted to keep her active and vital, and I also wanted to explore the early stages of Benni and Gabe’s complex relationship. Keep in mind while reading Tumbling Blocks that it takes place in December 1996, one month after Delectable Mountains.

  Tumbling Blocks

  Tumbling Blocks is one of the optical illusion quilt patterns that can be traced back as early as the 1850s. It was during this time that domestic textile production was on the rise, and fabric was easier and cheaper for women to buy. Because of this, block-work quilts became popular for many American quilters. The fool-the-eye, three-dimensional effect of the Tumbling Blocks pattern is achieved using light, medium and dark fabrics. Though diamonds are actually utilized to make the design, the image of blocks tumbling in an endless falling motion is the desired outcome. It is a deceptive pattern that changes depending on how you view it. It must be carefully pieced, the corners coming together perfectly, to produce the mesmerizing effect. Blocks were a popular toy for children in the early nineteenth century, so Tumbling Blocks was often used in baby quilts. One of the earliest examples of a silk Tumbling Blocks quilt was made in 1852 b
y an Alabama slave. Other names for this pattern are Stairsteps, Cubework, Shifting Cubes, Heavenly Stairs, Pandora’s Box and Baby Blocks.

  Quilt Histories

  People often ask me where they can find histories of quilt patterns. There is no single book that tells all the histories of every quilt pattern. Like making a patchwork quilt, I piece together the history of each quilt pattern using a variety of sources such as books, magazines, newspapers and the Internet. I have found the following books particularly helpful in my search.

  Encyclopedia of Pieced Quilt Patterns, compiled by Barbara Brackman

  Quilts: Identification and Price Guide, Liz Greenbacker and Kathleen Barach

  Old Patchwork Quilts and the Women Who Made Them, Ruth E. Finley

  Quilts: Their Story and How to Make Them, Marie D. Webster

  The Romance of the Patchwork Quilt in America, Carrie A. Hall and Rose G. Kretsinger

  101 Patchwork Patterns, Ruby McKim

  The New Quilting & Patchwork Dictionary, Rhoda Ochser Goldberg

  849 Traditional Patchwork Patterns, Susan Winter Mills

  PROLOGUE

  December 1996

  DEAR ALICE,

  It’s hard to believe, but it’s that time of year again and, as I promised thirty-two years ago, I’m writing to let you know how Benni is doing.

  It’s been quite a year. In January, our girl helped a nice young couple get their dude ranch up and running. There was some excitement involving a love triangle and a fire, but, thankfully, Benni wasn’t hurt. The Broken Dishes ranch is doing a real brisk business now, not a little bit because of her. She’s a good and loyal friend who I wouldn’t mind having on my team any day. Then again, could be I’m a tiny bit partial.

  Things went along pretty smoothly through the spring and summer. We don’t see each other as much as we used to, what with her responsibilities as museum curator and being a police chief’s wife. We did have some real fun times putting up strawberry and plum jam. The strawberries were plentiful this year. She is always right there to help me whenever I ask.

  She’s done much better being a police chief’s wife than I expected, not that I should ever underestimate her. As you well know, she’s a good worker and always tries her best, something I know she inherited partly from you. I remember those last days when you struggled so hard to fight that cancer. I guess it just wasn’t in God’s plan. Like I told you that last day you had on earth, when you were so scared your sweet girl would face her whole life without you there to help her, that I would take care of her for you and let you know every year at Christmas how she’s doing. Someday, when I head up there myself, Benni will find these letters and know that all along you and I have been partners, watching over her.

  Oh, dear Alice, we almost lost her last month if that hostage situation had turned out differently. Those were some hard, hard hours. There were moments when I thought Gabe was going to just fold up and die. I do believe he would if something happened to Benni. That man is so in love with her. When Jack came up there to be with y’all, I truly thought Benni would end up like me, alone for most of her life (though Isaac has been such a joy and well worth waiting for). But I couldn’t have in all my imagination thought up a man more suited to her than Gabe. He’d do anything for her, stand in front of a bullet to protect her, if need be. He’s a good man.

  Despite what she went through, she seems happier than I’ve seen her for a long time.

  You know, I’ve learned a lot watching Benni with Gabe’s son, Sam, her cousin, Emory, Elvia and her family and the people where she works. She throws herself into helping whoever crosses her path. That has taught me something about who we should consider family. I don’t think I would have been able to open myself up to marrying a second time if I hadn’t seen how willing she was to love again. As you well know, I’m real good with giving advice, not so good at taking it. There I was telling her to take a chance on love again, when I’d been so scared to do that very same thing for most of my life. She has taught me courage.

  I’m so proud of her, as I know you are too. She went through a lot last month, and though she hasn’t said it, I know she thinks that she failed with Gabe’s cousin Luis. She and I have talked a little about what happened. I’ve told her that what she did was right, but I can tell she still relives it in her head, wondering if she could have done something different. Truth is, though we want to believe we have the ability to change others, every one of us has free will to choose. She’ll understand that better as she gets older. Though my heart hurts a lot more for people now, I don’t blame myself as much when I can’t help them. Ultimately, each of us just has to flat out decide on our own what we’re going to do with this gift of life that God has given us.

  Right now, I can see that she’s worried about Gabe. His mother is here, and there is some big sadness between those two that I’m praying will be resolved. I’m worried about Benni worrying about him. And Isaac’s worried about me worrying about Benni. I guess that’s what family is, a basket weave of people loving and worrying on each other.

  You know, I picture heaven being a place where every person we worry about is right there for us to see—all safe and happy and healthy. A place where we never have to worry again. Am I right about that, Alice? I know you can’t answer, but it seems right to me. I guess I’ll find out eventually.

  Well, I’d better get moving. The chickens are getting restless. I bought myself a bunch of Holland Whites. I’m not sure how they are going to do, they seem rather flighty, but they are fun to watch. Though I’d never admit this to anyone but you, I name my ladies. I’m here to tell you, it makes it hard to make a stew out of them. Just between us, I give my favorites away simply because I can’t bear the thought of them in a bowl of dumplings. That’s my true confession for this year. Some ranchwoman I am, ha-ha!

  The alfalfa’s looking good, and our Ben’s just as stubborn and sweet as ever. I always felt bad that after you passed on my son never found someone else to love. As you can imagine, there have been plenty of willing ladies throughout the years. But he swore he could never love anyone but you. Who am I to doubt him? I knew you were special the moment he brought you home. He has a new colt and a new puppy, so that’s keeping him busy.

  I look forward to seeing you again, sweetie. Until then, know that I’m watching over our girl, not that she needs it so much anymore. We miss you every day and long for the time when we will all be together again in that place where there is no darkness, no pain and no sorrow. Say hello to the Lord for me. Tell Him I’ll see Him soon (But not too soon! I still have plenty to do down here).

  I remain always, your loving mother-in-law,

  Dove

  CHAPTER 1

  “MY SYSTEM IS RUINED!” ELVIA GLARED AT OUR IMAGES in the oak and brass full-length mirror while I attempted to zip up her gray fitted Anne Klein dress. The zipper wasn’t cooperating. Screaming in protest might have been a more accurate description. My friend’s two-month pregnancy was already creating havoc with her precisely tailored wardrobe.

  “Your system?” I tugged gently at the zipper. There was no way I could sneak it past her definitely thickening waist.

  “My clothing system,” she said. Her tone was snappish as a water turtle.

  Attempting to restrain the laugh gurgling in my throat, I answered, “You have a clothing system?”

  She arched one dark eyebrow. “Within a six-month period, I never wear the same combination of clothing. My schedule is computerized and makes suggestions for alternate choices due to weather fluctuations. Today is the pewter Anne Klein silk dress with my black Dolce & Gabbana wool jacket. It’s on the list.”

  “You have a computerized list?” I watched my mirrored mouth gape in surprise. “It takes the weather forecast into consideration?”

  Her tone grew haughty. “Don’t act so superior. Everyone has a system. Mine is just a little more organized than most people’s. Admit it, you have a system.”

  I couldn’t hold back
. Laughter burst from my mouth. Arrows shot out of her glossy black eyes, causing me to hold up my hands in apology. “Sure, whatever is clean and closest to what is appropriate for what I’m doing that day is what I wear. That’s my system.” And, I added mentally, the system of most normal people.

  She growled at me, sounding like an angry little terrier. “I refuse to let this pregnancy ruin my system.” She stomped one foot for punctuation. The burnished oak floor of the airy upstairs bedroom reverberated. We were in one of the guest bedrooms in the flawlessly restored Victorian house that she shared with her husband, my cousin, Emory Littleton. This particular room held three armoires, which housed only a small part of her extensive wardrobe. Emory had wisely hightailed it out of here about ten seconds after I arrived, though he was kind enough to give me a vague heads-up.

  “Just a warnin’, sweetcakes,” he’d said in his loamy but sexy Arkansas drawl. “My darlin’ wife is huntin’ bear this morning.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, then shrugged into his navy suit coat. “Best put on your flak jacket and try to dodge all incoming flaming arrows.”

  “That is such a weird image I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear it,” I said, laughing. “For the record, I don’t feel a bit sorry for you. It’s your fault she’s in this emotional tizzy.” I straightened a slightly skewed velvet and crystal cupid ornament on their ten-foot blue spruce Christmas tree.