State Fair by Earlene Fowler Read Free Book Online Page A

was particularly annoyed that Levi or the Paso police hadn’t told him about the letters. Hud normally worked cold cases so his commanding officer thought they could spare him rather than any other detectives working current crimes. We entered the building and walked down the long hallway past Levi’s closed door. I wondered how Levi would handle the media once the quilt theft was public knowledge. Chances were that some people knew about it already, so he couldn’t keep it quiet like he had the threatening letters.
    The sheriff’s department had been given an empty back room for their command post. Hud sat down behind a battered gray metal desk and pulled an official-looking form from a side drawer.
    “Pull up a chair and rest your weary boots,” he said, taking a gold Cross pen from his shirt pocket.
    “I really want to believe the theft isn’t about race,” I said, sitting in one of the plastic visitor’s chairs. On the desk there was a black phone, a metal filing tray and a yellow legal-sized tablet. Behind him were a small beige filing cabinet and a plastic trash can. A metal-framed bulletin board and a fair poster from last year decorated the tan walls. Two folded notes were thumbtacked on the cork board with “Bob” written in felt pen.
    Hud started filling out the report. “Wish away, but though we’d like to believe all of that is in the past, it isn’t.” He looked up from the report. “Let’s look on positive side. Maybe it’s a jealous quilter.”
    “Quilters aren’t like that,” I said, nibbling on my ragged thumb nail.
    “Yeah, right,” he said, his brown eyes mocking.
    “Frankly, it would be a lot less frightening if it was just some whacked-out quilter who was envious of the quilt.”
    “Whatever.” He went back to writing.
    “What’re you going to do?”
    “Give me a description of this quilt.”
    I leaned back in my chair, causing it to emit an ominous creak. “It’s a copy of Harriet Powers’s first story quilt. It’s an appliquéd quilt.”
    He looked up at me, his face blank.
    “Appliqué is a technique. You take small pieces of fabric and sew them onto a larger piece of background fabric. Harriet Powers’s quilts show biblical stories like Adam and Eve naming the animals and Cain going to the land of Nod in search of a wife. Harriet Powers is probably the most famous black quilter in history. The quilt that the Ebony Sisters copied was Harriet Powers’s first known story quilt. The original is at the Smithsonian.”
    “The Ebony Sisters? That some kind of singing group?”
    “It’s the quilt guild that Maggie and Katsy belong to. They formed a smaller quilting group out of our bigger San Celina Quilt Guild. I mean, anyone can join them, but they like having, you know, their own . . .” I let my voice trail off. It was often hard to explain why the Ebony Sisters wanted to have their own group.
    “I get it,” Hud said. “Is there a photo of the quilt? That would make it easier.”
    “I can find you a photo. The quilt is double bed size. There are eleven panels. I could describe each panel, but a photo would probably be better.”
    He nodded and continued filling in blanks.
    “So, what now?” I asked.
    He signed the bottom of the form with a flourish. Then he opened a drawer in the desk, took out a manila file folder and, his eyes not leaving my face, dramatically slipped it inside, and then placed the folder in the vertical metal file holding a few similar folders.
    “Not funny. This quilt really is special. One of the contributors died a few months ago so they’ll never be able to duplicate it exactly.”
    The Ebony Sisters Quilt Guild had started this quilt over a year ago in preparation for the museum exhibit. Hundreds of hours of work had gone into its making.
    He leaned back in the old office chair, locking his fingers behind his head. “I’m just messin’ with you, Benni. I do understand how important this quilt is and I wish I could say you have a