Page 88 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
At their return, a spatter of applause came from the regulars.
Kateri loved these people. They were her friends, the backbone of her life in Virtue Falls, always there, always dependable, showing their support in discreet and loving ways.
As always, Mrs. Golobovitch sat at the head of the quilt directing operations. “Hello, Kateri, I’m glad you decided to join us. Would you introduce us to your friends?”
“My sister, Lilith Palmer, from Baltimore.” No one audibly gasped, but a few opened their eyes wide, as if they didn’t dare blink at the news Kateri had a sister. “My friend, Merida Falcon, currently living in Virtue Falls.” Merida commanded her own kind of reaction: she wore lavender coveralls, a purple sleeveless T-shirt and had recently shaved the hair over her left ear. Which put her in the mainstream of Virtue Falls fashion. But she was so beautiful, the women looked and looked away, as if she was difficult to view.
Kateri introduced the women around the table, and when she introduced Lillie and Tora Keidel, Lilith said, “Oh. The sisters who arefriends.”
Damn. Lilith had noticed Kateri’s slip.
Kateri showed Merida where to place the sandwiches—on a table as far away from the quilt as possible—then they went to sit among the group, and everyone shuffled their seats to make room.
Kateri pointed Merida to a chair between Emma Royalty and Rosa Sage, then seated herself across the table with Lilith beside her. To the table in general, she explained, “My friend Merida can hear, so don’t shout! But she can’t speak. Lilith and I will translate as needed.”
An awkward silence. A little chitchat asking how Merida and Lilith liked Virtue Falls. Mrs. Golobovitch gave them quilting needles and showed them the basics of putting the patches together. Then Gladys McKissick asked, “How are your ribs, Kateri?”
Kateri touched her side. “Better, thank you. Since we lost John Terrance and we’re dealing with a period of relative calm—except for some of the less sensible tourists—”
Knowing laughter.
“—I’ve had time to heal.”
“And Rainbow? No change?” Tora Keidel’s voice trembled.
The room grew very quiet; the only sound was the zip of the rotary cutter in Elsa’s hand. Rainbow was a regular at the quilting group; she was sorely missed and they all waited on the sad news with tears and prayers.
Kateri cleared her throat. “No change.”
Lilith looked around in surprise; apparently it hadn’t occurred to her that people other than Kateri might harbor a love for Rainbow.
Frances Salak said, “Kateri, can you tell us what Garik said about these… these slashings around town?”
Everyone here knew Garik, most had known him all their lives, and Kateri had tried to make sure gossips knew she’d consulted him and his FBI database. She told them, “In the last twelve months, slashings in the U.S. are up, but only slightly. Most of the perpetrators are accounted for—drug cases or spousal abuse. The three fatalities that are still without a suspect are in different parts of the country and the methods and weapons are not similar.”
“Where were they?” Frances asked. “What were the weapons?”
Kateri counted down on her fingers. “New York, Chicago and Birmingham, Alabama. A paring knife, an X-Acto knife and a butcher knife. Weapons everyone has access to.”
Without looking up, Elsa Cipre corrected Kateri. “To whomeveryone has access.”
Kateri wanted to smack her.
Merida put her fingers to her forehead and massaged.
Lilith moaned softly.
And dear, sweet Mrs. Golobovitch stood up and stalked over to Elsa Cipre. “Please stop cutting that material. We don’t need so many strips for this quilt!”
Elsa Cipre didn’t even look up. “Yes, you do.”
Mrs. Golobovitch’s Eastern European accent got heavier. “I have been quilting for sixty years. Do you dare tell me I’m wrong?”
“Youarewrong. Do you have a degree in Home Sciences?” Elsa answered. “No, you do not. I have designed this quilt in my mind and with the additional three inches it needs at the top and the bottom—”
“It doesn’t need anything at the top or the bottom!” Outrage brought Mrs. Golobovitch to attention.
“Of course not.” The rotary cutter slid past the tips of Elsa’s fingers. “If you want the proportions to be incorrect.”
