1 The Underhanded Stitch by Marjory Sorrell Rockwell Read Free Book Online Page B

hundreds. You can imagine my surprise when he asked me if I found it in a Cracker Jacks box.”
    “So is Jim going to arrest Tall Paul for fraud, selling fake rings as family heirlooms?” asked Cookie.
    Bootsie shook her head. “Beau refuses to press charges, so Tall Paul gets a free pass – ”
    “ – and gets to keep the thousand dollars,” added Lizzie.
    “There’s that,” Maddy admitted.
    “Is it true Beau paid twelve grand for a stone statue of Colonel Madison?” asked Cookie. Her quilt was nearing completion, so she could stop to talk without missing a stitch.
    Maddy winced. “I’m afraid so. Let’s hope it rivals Michelangelo’s David.”
    “What will he do with it?” Lizzie wanted to know. “I heard Mayor Caruthers has turned it down as a gift for the town square.”
    “So I’m told. My guess is that it will wind up in our backyard overlooking the goldfish pond.”
    “Really,” said Cookie. “What a shame.”
    “ Hmph , I’d rather have new kitchen countertops,” snorted Bootsie. Not exactly an art afficinado.
    “Me, I’d take a new car,” said Lizzie. “One of those Japanese SUV’s.”
    “It’s not like I get a choice,” laughed Maddy. “The money has already been spent. On a marble statue. Not kitchen counters or SUV’s or even mink coats.”
    “Mink coats are out,” said her granddaughter. “PETA members would march naked down Main Street if you got one.”
    “I doubt there are many PETA members in Caruthers Corners,” observed Bootsie. “Too many hunters in these parts.”
    “Don’t worry,” Maddy assured them. “We will never see the day when my husband coughs up the money it takes to buy a mink coat.”
    “I haven’t priced one lately,” said Cookie. “But I’ll bet they cost less than twelve grand.”
    “Touché,” said Maddy.
    “Can somebody tell me if I cut this square out OK?”
    “That looks great, honey. Now start cutting your other eight squares. Then I’ll show you how to prepare the seams before you start sewing them together. It takes a little time, but it’ll be worth it when your quilt is finished.
    “Thanks, Lizzie.”
    “If Tall Paul sold Beau a fake ring, does that mean he still has the real one?” mused Cookie.
    “Who knows,” said Maddy.
    “Who cares,” added Bootsie.
    Little Agnes looked up from her cutting. “The Quilter’s Club should care,” she declared.
    That got Maddy’s attention. “Why, Aggie?”
    “The mystery isn’t solved until we find out.”
    “No, dear,” contradicted Bootsie Purdue. “We set out to find who stole the Colonel’s bronze bust. Turns out, your grandpa did it.”
    “Not that he meant anything bad by it,” Cookie hastened to amend.
    “But we’ve turned up an even older mystery. What happened to the Colonel’s ruby ring that old Mister Jingo stole.”
    “Jinks, dear. It was Ferdinand Aloysius Jinks.”
    “So where is it – the ring, that is?”
    “Probably in Paul Johnson’s sock drawer,” Bootsie tried to make light of it.
    “I think Aggie’s right,” Cookie Brown spoke up. “The mystery of what happened to Colonel Beauregard Madison’s ring has never been solved. We owe it to history to find it and return it to its rightful owner.”
    “My husband?” said Maddy. “He’s the Colonel’s last living descendant.”
    “No,” said a tiny voice – Agnes. “I am.”

 
Chapter Thirteen
     
     
Toe Jam
     
     
    T all Pall Johnson was taken aback to find four ladies and a girl at his front door. “I hope you don’t mind,” smiled Maddy Madison. “We dropped by to see how your toe was healing.”
    “My toe?” He seemed to have forgotten his “lawnmower accident.” No sign of crutches or bandages on his left foot.
    “Yes, you told my husband that you’d hurt it while mowing the lawn,” said Bootsie.
    “Oh, that. Perhaps I exaggerated slightly. More like I stubbed it.”
    “We brought you this nice pot of soup, thinking you couldn’t get around well enough to cook for