Read Online 1 The Underhanded Stitch by Marjory Sorrell Rockwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marjory Sorrell Rockwell
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forefinger, tasting the blood.
“We’ve got Band-Aids over here in the cabinet,” said Lizzie. “Let me get you one.” She rummaged in a big mahogany breakfront, coming up with a square tin box stamped with a red cross.
“How’d you stick yourself?” asked Cookie, leaning forward to examine the tiny wound.
“My needle hit something hard. Glanced off and jabbed my finger that was holding the middle part together.”
“Something hard? That’s odd,” said Bootsie, running her palm along the surface of Agnes’ quilt. “Wait! There is something hard in here.”
“Really?” Maddy ran her finger over the fabric, checking it herself. Bootsie was known to exaggerate. But not in this case, for she came to a lump about the size of an unshelled peanut, something solid and unyielding.
“What is it?” asked Lizzie as she finished wrapping the bandage around Agnes’ injured finger.
“Dunno,” admitted Maddy.
“Hand me that pair of scissors,” instructed Lizzie. A take-charge personality to the point of being pushy. “We’ll find out what’s in there.”
Snip, snip!
The determined redhead clipped just enough of the basting to slip her hand into the part with the lump. Her hands as steady as a heart surgeon’s. “Here you go,” she said, carefully pulling her hand out. “I think I’ve found the culprit.”
“A thimble!” Bootsie declared, staring at the round metal object that had been tucked in the folds of the quilt.
“Why, honey,” admonished Cookie, “you sewed up your thimble inside your quilt.”
“I wondered where it went,” the girl giggled. Showing no apparent embarrassment over her faux pas .
“Like a doctor sewing up the patient with a sponge inside,” said Bootsie. “I heard of that happening at the Veteran’s Hospital over in Indianapolis.”
“Never mind that,” said Maddy. “I know where the ring is.”
Chapter Sixteen
Martha Ray Takes the Prize
C ookie found the newspaper article in her Historical Society archives. The dateline on the yellowed paper was marked April 12, 1934.
Local Woman Takes State Quilting Prize
INDIANAPOLIS – Mrs. Martha Ray Johnson of Caruthers Corners placed first in the statewide Quilting Bee. Her design was judged most creative among 112 contenders. Reminiscent of a Currier and Ives scene, the quilt offered a bucolic view of a small Midwestern village. When asked where she got the idea for the design, she replied, “My hometown inspired me. Our Town Hall is a real jewel.”
“There you have it,” exclaimed Maddy. “The location of the ruby ring, right out of the mouth of Paul Johnson’s grandmother.”
“You mean – ?”
“That’s right,” nodded Maddy. “The ring is sewn into that prizewinning quilt hanging over Tall Paul’s fireplace.”
“Hm,” said Bootsie, “maybe the old crone wasn’t senile after all when she told her grandson that the ring ‘lies beneath the Town Hall.’ She wasn’t talking about the real brick-and-mortar building – she was referring to the building in the quilt pattern.”
“So what do we do?” asked practical-minded Agnes. “Knock on Mister Johnson’s door and ask him to let us cut open his grammy’s quilt?”
“I doubt he’d simply hand it over,” said Cookie, well aware how folks in these parts valued their family heirlooms.
“We have to steal it,” declared Lizzie, devious as usual.
“Wait, we can’t do that,” exclaimed Bootsie. “My husband’s the chief of police. How would it look if we got caught?”
“Then don’t get caught,” snapped Lizzie. Her friend Bootsie was such a wimp, always poo-pooing her brilliant suggestions.
“It’s not like we’d really be stealing the quilt,” rationalized Cookie. “Tall Paul will get it back once we recover the ring.”
“And Maddy’s husband is the rightful owner of the ring,” said Lizzie. “He paid Tall Paul a thousand dollars for it.”
“We need a plan,” suggested
“We’ve got Band-Aids over here in the cabinet,” said Lizzie. “Let me get you one.” She rummaged in a big mahogany breakfront, coming up with a square tin box stamped with a red cross.
“How’d you stick yourself?” asked Cookie, leaning forward to examine the tiny wound.
“My needle hit something hard. Glanced off and jabbed my finger that was holding the middle part together.”
“Something hard? That’s odd,” said Bootsie, running her palm along the surface of Agnes’ quilt. “Wait! There is something hard in here.”
“Really?” Maddy ran her finger over the fabric, checking it herself. Bootsie was known to exaggerate. But not in this case, for she came to a lump about the size of an unshelled peanut, something solid and unyielding.
“What is it?” asked Lizzie as she finished wrapping the bandage around Agnes’ injured finger.
“Dunno,” admitted Maddy.
“Hand me that pair of scissors,” instructed Lizzie. A take-charge personality to the point of being pushy. “We’ll find out what’s in there.”
Snip, snip!
The determined redhead clipped just enough of the basting to slip her hand into the part with the lump. Her hands as steady as a heart surgeon’s. “Here you go,” she said, carefully pulling her hand out. “I think I’ve found the culprit.”
“A thimble!” Bootsie declared, staring at the round metal object that had been tucked in the folds of the quilt.
“Why, honey,” admonished Cookie, “you sewed up your thimble inside your quilt.”
“I wondered where it went,” the girl giggled. Showing no apparent embarrassment over her faux pas .
“Like a doctor sewing up the patient with a sponge inside,” said Bootsie. “I heard of that happening at the Veteran’s Hospital over in Indianapolis.”
“Never mind that,” said Maddy. “I know where the ring is.”
Chapter Sixteen
Martha Ray Takes the Prize
C ookie found the newspaper article in her Historical Society archives. The dateline on the yellowed paper was marked April 12, 1934.
Local Woman Takes State Quilting Prize
INDIANAPOLIS – Mrs. Martha Ray Johnson of Caruthers Corners placed first in the statewide Quilting Bee. Her design was judged most creative among 112 contenders. Reminiscent of a Currier and Ives scene, the quilt offered a bucolic view of a small Midwestern village. When asked where she got the idea for the design, she replied, “My hometown inspired me. Our Town Hall is a real jewel.”
“There you have it,” exclaimed Maddy. “The location of the ruby ring, right out of the mouth of Paul Johnson’s grandmother.”
“You mean – ?”
“That’s right,” nodded Maddy. “The ring is sewn into that prizewinning quilt hanging over Tall Paul’s fireplace.”
“Hm,” said Bootsie, “maybe the old crone wasn’t senile after all when she told her grandson that the ring ‘lies beneath the Town Hall.’ She wasn’t talking about the real brick-and-mortar building – she was referring to the building in the quilt pattern.”
“So what do we do?” asked practical-minded Agnes. “Knock on Mister Johnson’s door and ask him to let us cut open his grammy’s quilt?”
“I doubt he’d simply hand it over,” said Cookie, well aware how folks in these parts valued their family heirlooms.
“We have to steal it,” declared Lizzie, devious as usual.
“Wait, we can’t do that,” exclaimed Bootsie. “My husband’s the chief of police. How would it look if we got caught?”
“Then don’t get caught,” snapped Lizzie. Her friend Bootsie was such a wimp, always poo-pooing her brilliant suggestions.
“It’s not like we’d really be stealing the quilt,” rationalized Cookie. “Tall Paul will get it back once we recover the ring.”
“And Maddy’s husband is the rightful owner of the ring,” said Lizzie. “He paid Tall Paul a thousand dollars for it.”
“We need a plan,” suggested
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