4 Plagued by Quilt Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn’t like being snubbed—
didn’t like
being a euphemism for
became weepy, petulant, huffy, and louder than was necessary or pleasant.
“I didn’t want to miss her.”
    “The rep?” Ardis asked. “She called. She had a flat on the way out of Asheville.”
    “Bummer.”
    “She said she’ll try to reschedule in a week or two.”
    “Mm.”
    “It could’ve been worse. She could’ve had the flat up there on that bridge with the mile-high legs in Sams Gap.”
    While Ardis talked, Geneva floated over to sit on the shoulder of the mannequin to my right. I shifted around to keep her in the conversation, noting that Ardis had dressed the mannequin in the beautiful quilted jacket one of our customers had designed and brought in. Geneva’s damp gray form did nothing for the jacket’s predominant color scheme of watery oranges and green.
    “That bridge used to give me the willies,” Ardis was saying.
    Geneva yawned with noisy exaggeration and rested her chin on the mannequin’s head. Together they looked like a stumpy totem pole.
    Ardis raised her voice. “But now I just close my eyes when I reach the crest, and I scream on the way down. Works every time.”
    “Sorry—what?”
    “I knew you weren’t listening,” she said. “You’re wearing your preoccupied and puzzling-something-out face. So tell me all about the bones.”
    “Bones?” Geneva sat up straighter.
    “‘The Bones in the Barnyard,’” Ardis mused. “It has a definite ring to it. And now you’re wearing your
surprised
and puzzling-something-out face, and if you ask me, that’s one of the reasons you’re such a natural-born amateur sleuth. You’re always puzzling things out. Even when you give me that less-than-attractive slitty-eyed look you’re wearing now.”
    I kept the slitty-eyed look for Ardis’ benefit and held up an index finger for Geneva’s. In the human-to-haunt sign-language system Geneva and I were constantly working to refine, a raised index finger was supposed to mean
hold on
or
please
be
patient.
    “Are you scolding me?” Ardis drew back, looking and sounding hurt. “Why so touchy?”
    At the same time, Geneva waved her arms wildly and shouted, “Read my arms! I want to hear about the bones!” Her contributions to our system sometimes gave me a headache.
    “Sorry, sorry, there really isn’t much to tell yet.” I massaged my forehead.
    “Oh, hon, no,” Ardis said, picking up on that sign immediately. “There’s nothing in the world to be sorry for. The heat of the day and unexpected human remains? They’d be enough to send anybody off-kilter.”
    “
Kilt
her?” Geneva said. “That does not sound like ‘not much to tell.’ Perhaps Ardis is right and the shock and the heat were too much for you.” She left the mannequin and floated closer. “Would you like me to hold your hand?”
    “Do you need to sit down?” Ardis asked.
    I looked at Geneva, then at Ardis. Two unlikely peas in a pod, both sweetly concerned.
    “I’m okay, but I’ve got three sleuth-type questions for you, Ardis. Who, when, and how?”
    “Did I hear about the bones? Oh ye of little faith in the Blue Plum jungle drums and texting service. You had two dozen teenagers, on the spot, with phones and itchy fingers. By now it might be quicker to guess who
hasn’t
heard about the bones.”
    “
I
haven’t,” Geneva said.
    “Good point,” I said, covering both of them, “and no telling what embellished information is flying around out there because of that. So here are the bare bones.” I paused for Ardis to groan. She sounded uncannily like Geneva. “One of the students, Zach Aikens, found an elbow joint. It might be a whole arm. It might be a whole skeleton. They won’t know until they excavate, but they can’t do that until they get the okay from the medical examiner and the sheriff’s department. That’s according to the archaeologist, Jerry Hicks.”
    “How deep did he find it?” Ardis asked.
    It was Geneva’s turn to