Quilt Trip: A Southern Quilting Mystery by Elizabeth Craig Page A

be a good time to talk about what we all did last night and if we saw or heard anything.”
    Meadow stared at her with wide eyes. “You think one of us might have had something to do with Muriel’s murder?”
    “No, no. Why on earth would we have killed Muriel? None of us even knew her.”
    Posy said sadly, “I don’t think I’ll be any help at all. All I did after supper was help Miss Sissy hunt down additional quilts for our beds. We found a few really lovely ones, too—there were a couple in the most beautiful shades of red. It made me wonder if Muriel especially liked that color. After we gathered the quilts, though, Miss Sissy and I went to sleep.”
    Beatrice frowned at Miss Sissy, who was staring with great determination at the fire. Miss Sissy had once stayed with her at her house, so Beatrice knew that the old woman was afflicted with chronic insomnia. “Is that right, Miss Sissy?” she asked. “Did you sleep soundly all night?”
    Miss Sissy kept staring at the fire.
    Beatrice sighed. “How about you, Meadow?”
    “Well, you should know, Beatrice, considering that we are roommates. I didn’t stir all night.”
    She’d snored most of the night, too. So Meadow would be no help.
    “Did you hear anything last night, Beatrice?” Posy asked.
    “I heard a couple of things,” Beatrice said slowly, “but I’m not sure what they mean or if they are significant in some way. Before I went to sleep, I heard Holly Weaver talking to Muriel. She was very upset—actually, she was crying. Muriel was concerned about her, but Holly said she was tired and needed to get a little sleep.”
    Meadow frowned. “What on earth could have been upsetting Holly? She acts so determinedly cheerful and happy. Dimples flashing merrily at us all the time. And she has all those freckles.”
    “I don’t know, but I think Muriel must have said something to upset her. I remember that Muriel said that there was somebody she wanted to talk to after supper. I guess it was Holly. I’ll try to find out what Muriel told her,” said Beatrice.
    “Was there anything else?” Meadow asked. “Or were you as dead asleep as I was?”
    “I slept pretty well last night, but I did hear a door creaking open at one point in the middle of the night sometime.”
    Posy gasped. “Beatrice, do you think that was when Muriel was murdered in her bed?”
    “As far as I know, it could have been somebody up getting a cup of water. But it
could
have been Muriel’s murderer. Wouldn’t you think that the murderer would have wanted to sneak to Muriel’s room very late to avoid being seen? After all, if the killer had gone out too early, someone might still have been getting ready for bed or just turning in.”
    “It all seems really risky to me.” Meadow sighed. “What kind of crazy person would kill somebody with a whole houseful of potential witnesses right there?”
    “Think about it, though,” Beatrice said. “When else would the murderer have had an opportunity like this one? Maybe Alexandra would, but she might have been in a hurry to murder her before the will was changed. No one else had regular access to this house—certainly not to stay overnight, anyway.”
    Loud voices were raised somewhere behind them. Beatrice said, “Looks like people are already getting testy.” They left the study and headed in the direction of the voices.
    Winnie and Dot were facing each other angrily in the kitchen. Winnie’s hands were on her hips and her expression was furious. She spun to face them. “Dot has taken it upon herself to eat all the peanut butter. All of it!”
    Dot gave them a placid smile as she carefully wiped the gooey remnants of the peanut butter off her fingers with a napkin. “Somebody had to eat it. Might as well have been me. I was hungry. It was there. Case closed.”
    “You didn’t give the rest of us a thought! You thought you were
entitled
to it,” Winnie spat out.
    “There couldn’t have been all that much peanut