2 The Patchwork Puzzler by Marjory Sorrell Rockwell

threads, batting.”
    “Yes, it would be,” agreed the antique dealer. “Some of these fabrics aren’t made anymore.
    “These three quilts are excellent copies,” said Maddy. “How do we know she didn’t create a fourth?”
    “Oh, I’d say she did,” opined the antique dealer. “Because the fake quilt you have was made with the same synthetic red thread as these three. That’s four in all.”
    “Wait a minute,” growled Holly Eberhard. “Are you accusing me of a crime?”
    “That’s not for me to say. All I can do is tell you that the same person who made these three quilts likely made the fourth that is hanging in the Town Hall.”
    “That can’t be true,” she shrieked angrily. “I know how many faux Pennington quilts I made – three, not four.”
    “That’s quite impossible.”
    Mark held up his hand to silence them. “Mr. Sokolowski, could I ask you to look at this beehive design again. Are you certain it has the same synthetic thread as the others?”
    “Well – ” the antique dealer hesitated.
    “Humor me, please.”
    “Alright, if you insist.” He returned the jeweler’s glass to his eye. Everyone waited while he inspected the beehive quilt with even greater care than before. “No way!” he said suddenly. “This can’t be right.”
    “What?” demanded Maddy.
    Mark smiled grimly, as if he already knew the answer.
    “Should I call my attorney?” asked Holly Eberhard.
    “Oh, I knew this sewing stuff would lead to no good,” wailed her mother, swaying back and forth on the plastic-covered couch.
    “This quilt,” pronounced Daniel Sokolowski, “is authentic, not a copy!”

Chapter Twenty
     
     
     
A Culprit Behind Bars
     
     
    A ggie was sitting there listening to the women’s excited chatter. With all the excitement of a new baby, her mother had relented on her ban of Aggie’s participation in the Quilter’s Club.
    “It doesn’t make sense,” Lizzie was saying. “Why would Holly Eberhard have allowed you to examine her quilts if she knew one of them was the stolen Pennington?”
    “Beats me,” replied Bootsie. “But Jim has taken her into custody. Now if he can find that rascally cousin of hers.”
    “Henry Caruthers can’t be far,” opined Maddy. “But Nan and Robert Kramer are likely in Canada by now.”
    “Doesn’t Canada have an extradition treaty with the US?” asked Lizzie.
    “Sure,” answered Bootsie, “if you can find them to arrest them.”
    “I’m just relieved the stolen quilt has been recovered. If we can keep this quiet, the Smithsonian need never know it was missing.”
    “Forget that,” said Maddy. “When they learn Holly Eberhard’s been arrested, everything will come out.”
    “Oh fiddle.”
    “Lizzie has a point,” continued Maddy. “I was there. And I think Holly was as surprised as we were when Daniel announced that her beehive quilt was authentic.”
    “Maybe she’s a good actress,” postulated Bootsie. “The fact that Holly had the real quilt and we had the copy proves she’s guilty as sin. Case closed.”
    “What if somebody else switched them,” Aggie spoke up.
    “That’s not very likely, honey.” Cookie patted her on the arm, placating the girl for trying to be helpful. “The copies were in Holly’s possession. Who could have switched them?”
    “Somebody stole yours and it was under lock and key. Hers were in an unlocked trunk.”
    “Yes, but – ”
    “Aggie has a point,” interceded Maddy. “Like I say, I think Holly Eberhard was as surprised as we were.”
    “Are you saying Jim has an innocent woman locked up in the police department holding cell?” Bootsie looked like she was ready to pop a blood vessel.
    “To tell the truth, I’m not sure. But we ought to figure out exactly what happened, else we might not be able to sleep at night.”
    Lizzie gave her a stern gaze. “Because we may have accused an innocent person? Or because you can’t rest until you’ve solved the puzzle?”
    “Both, I