Quilt City: Proving a Negative, page 1
PRAISE FOR BRUCE LEONARD’S BOOKS
This is my favorite patch yet in the ever-growing Hadley quilt. The characters continue to develop and live and grow and be murdered and have their murders solved. The writing is funnier than ever, steered by a strong moral compass and the influence of local culture. But most importantly, it's entertaining and engaging storytelling.
—ANDREW BALMAT, BETA READER AND FRONTMAN FOR THE BAND BIGELOW’S TREEHOUSE
Quilt City: Proving a Negative surprised me from start to finish. It is a treat entering Hadley’s world, and the characters and setting always stay with me long after I finish one of these books. Proving A Negative is fun and sharp. I can’t recommend it highly enough.
—BIZ LYON, THE ACTOR LIKELY TO GIVE VOICE TO THE HADLEY CARROLL MYSTERIES IN AUDIOBOOK FORM, IF THE UNIVERSE COOPERATES
Although I didn’t think Bruce could surpass the first three Hadley Carroll Mysteries, he somehow managed to do so with Quilt City: Proving a Negative. A must-read!
—Jenny Raith, owner of CozyMysteryBookshop.com
Quilt City Murders was named Best Mystery of 2022 by the National Indie Excellence Awards.
A review of Quilt City Murders:
Many of the other 5-star reviews here are eloquent and on-target, so I'll just add that this is the first 'quilt' mystery I've read whose story could stand on its own no matter the milieu, and whose details re quilting and quilters were credible. I enjoyed it, feel like I got a free trip to the quilt mega-festival in Paducah, and will look forward to further series titles. —an Amazon reviewer
Praise for Quilt City: Panic in Paducah:
Reading Quilt City: Panic in Paducah was an absolute treat. Bruce Leonard strikes the perfect blend of humor and mystery in this gripping sequel that is somehow better than its predecessor.
—Shanessa Gluhm, author of Enemies of Doves and The River of Crows
Praise for Quilt City: Measure Once, Cut Twice:
Quilt City: Measure Once, Cut Twice is a riveting continuation of Hadley Carroll's journey. Bruce Leonard has once again crafted a story that's both thrilling and poignant, sure to satisfy old fans and garner new ones. With its combination of suspense, romance, and deep character exploration, this book is a must-read for lovers of contemporary mystery and drama.
—Ty Keenum, author of The Little Church in the Valley, and The Crystal Palace
Praise for Quilt City Cookbook:
Welcome to the mind and kitchen of Hadley Carroll (and the unbridled wit of Bruce Leonard) as you thumb through this delightful dessert cookbook. She will keep you entertained with her stories and antics as your cookies bake. I can’t say I’ve tested all the recipes, but the peanut butter cookies are out-of-this-world!
—Alex Blevens, author of Bycatch
Praise for the upcoming Hard Exit, a hardboiled detective novel narrated by depressed private-investigator Jack Drake:
This is a smart, edgy, state-of-the-art L.A. noir with heart. Jack Drake is a private eye with grit, a few demons and a semi-glamorous life on the beach in Malibu. This series is a terrific addition to the modern hard-boiled genre.
—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz
QUILT CITY: PROVING A NEGATIVE
A HADLEY CARROLL MYSTERY
BRUCE LEONARD
EYE-TIME PRESS
Quilt City: Proving a Negative
A Hadley Carroll Mystery
Book Four
By Bruce Leonard
Published by Eye-Time Press
ISBN: 979-8-9868235-9-1 paperback
979-8-9868235-8-4 ebook
Cover Design: Getcovers.com
Cover Photo: Bruce Leonard
First Edition
Printed in the United States of America
Copyright © 2024 by Bruce Leonard
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
ALSO BY BRUCE LEONARD
Quilt City Murders
Quilt City: Panic in Paducah
Quilt City: Measure Once, Cut Twice
Quilt City Cookbook
Coming Soon: Hard Exit, a detective novel set in Malibu and South Los Angeles that’s narrated by depressed private eye to the Hollywood stars, Jack Drake
My books are available via my website and elsewhere:
https://www.bruceleonardwriter.com
While you’re there, please sign up for my infrequent newsletter, which will allow me to let you know when my upcoming books will be published.
CONTENTS
1. Quiet on Set
2. Roll Sound
3. Scene 72, Take 1
4. Action!
5. Crossing the Line
6. Cutaway
7. Out of Balance
8. 24 Frames Per Second
9. Location Manager
10. Daily Production Report
11. Fisheye Lens
12. Arc Light
13. Long Shot
14. Cross-Cutting
15. Mood Lighting
16. Out of Focus
17. Replay
18. Below the Line
19. Bullet Time
20. Background Lighting
21. Backlot
22. Walk and Talk
23. Supporting Actors
24. Boom Mic
25. Bounce Board
26. Call Time
27. B-roll
28. Negative Cost
29. Reveal
30. Roll Credits
Acknowledgments
ONE
QUIET ON SET
“Aunt Hadley, come check out this quilt,” Nova MacGregor said in the National Quilt Museum. “It’s fierce.”
Nova, the older of the two nieces I didn’t know I had until a month earlier, was correct: Tiger, Tiger, the gorgeous, intricate quilt created by Kris Vierra, is masterful.
As a teenager, I would’ve described items that intrigued me or positive developments as “awesome.” Because slang changes, I surmised that “fierce” had a similar meaning.
Nova and her sister, Nell, had accompanied their mother, Nadine—my newly discovered older sister—from their home in Sainte Genevieve, Missouri, to the museum in Paducah, Kentucky. Dakota, my best friend, and I had greeted them at the entrance that Saturday morning in February. Ashley Pope, the eighteen-year-old who lived in my house, was supposed to join us but hadn’t arrived.
I didn’t know if Nadine had instructed her daughters to call me Aunt Hadley, and I didn’t know if Nova, fourteen, and Nell, twelve, felt awkward about conferring that familial title on a woman they’d hung out with only once. But I loved being called Aunt Hadley. I preferred that appellation to Madame Mayor or Mayor Carroll, and Aunt Hadley was infinitely better than the spray-painted names and insults I frequently had to paint over on the side of the Paducah Pulse building, where my staff and I put out a free weekly newspaper.
Paducah features abundant attractions, particularly in the arts, but it also contains friends and relatives of Nick Stoddard, the felonious lecher of a cesspool who lost to me in the mayoral campaign. Then there are the residents who don’t think highly of women, especially me, if their hastily scrawled messages are accurate reflections of their beliefs:
Stoddard got robbed. (Of his morals?)
Women good for only one thing. (Running the country?)
Ain’t my mayor, you women. (Nor was I your teacher.)
These are only some of the graffiti I can print. Calling me a “whorespondent” took creativity, but “Hate You” was uninspired.
These insults could have been written by anyone who disagreed with the editorials I wrote, didn’t think mayors should be female, or hated the fact I was dating Paducah Police Department detective Brandon Green. Regardless of who they were, the perpetrators succeeded in causing me to keep painting supplies near the back door.
“Yes, Tiger, Tiger is among my all-time favorites,” I said. “I’m glad you like it, Nova.”
“She likes it,” Nell said from behind me, “but not as much as Johnny Hoenig likes her.” She wore jeans, sneakers, and a Sainte Genevieve T-shirt.
“Hush,” Nova said.
“Who’s Johnny Hoenig?” I asked.
“A boy at school who says he’s gonna marry her,” Nell said.
I looked at Nova, who wore jeans, sneakers, and a Taylor Swift T-shirt. She shook her head slowly and said, “He’s a potato. He teases me, plays pranks, calls me Mrs. Hoenig even though I told him not to fourteen times. I counted.”
“Means he likes you, dummy,” Nell said.
“No,” I said, and looked over my shoulder to see where Nadine was. Although I was their aunt, I didn’t know them well, so it wasn’t my place to give them advice. Nadine and Nathan MacGregor appeared to be doing a wonderful job as parents. Nadine stood behind me. She nodded.
“A boy who likes you will be kind to you,” I said. “Never confuse attention, which can become obsession and abuse, with love, or even affection.” I turned to Nadine and raised my eyebrows.
“Perfect,” she said. “Girls, Aunt Hadley’s wise and knowledgeable. I suggest you pay attention to her.”
“I will,” they said simultaneously.
“Jinx, buy me a Coke,” Nova said a split-second before Nell did.
“Ha, now you owe me three,” Nova said.
“Momma, do I really?”
“Yes, if that’s the arrangement you’ve made,” Nadine said. “MacGregors honor our commitments. But I’d rather you wager something else. You don’t need all that sugar. How ’bout doing a chore for the winner whenever you jinx?”
“Okay,” Nova said.
“No, I’m not picking up her stinky socks,” Nell said.
“Stop being so slow, then.”
“Enough, you two,” Nadine said. “Let’s look in here,” she said, leading the girls into the next gallery.
The three of them studied a large abstract quilt as Dakota walked out of that gallery toward me.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Swimmingly. Nova and Nell are lovely. I caught myself wondering if they really are as well-adjusted and happy as they appear. The MacGregors remind me of your family—a cross between a Norman Rockwell cover and a Hallmark movie.”
“That’s a bit much, Hads. Cathy struggles daily, and all of us Crowleys have our issues. Mine have caused real problems.”
“That was glib. I’m sorry. But the contrast between y’all’s families and the Carrolls is jarring. Speaking of which, Jenny called me this morning.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Says rehab is much more difficult than she thought it would be, and she thought it would be, and I quote, ‘harder than calculus.’ Not that she took calculus. But she’s trying to remain upbeat. Says a guy in the group meetings is cute. I told her to keep sobriety in mind, not companionship.”
“Of course, but don’t you think she drank and used because she’s not in a loving relationship? Her last guy’s in prison, right? My bet is he wasn’t loving her unconditionally. I’m not inclined to overindulge, thank heavens, but I understand her loneliness.”
“I know you do, D. But being distracted by yet another man isn’t what she needs now. When she’s put a stretch of sobriety behind her, then she can have her heart broken again.”
“That’s my girl. Mayor Positivity. And this from the woman in a wonderful relationship. How’s Brandon?”
“Doing well. Visiting his mother to fix a plumbing problem. Nothing major, or that’s what she told him.”
“You doubt Lottie’s being forthright?”
“I doubt everything this morning. Today’s visit has ratcheted up my stress beyond my usual stratospheric levels. I finally have a family, even if they’re basically strangers, and I don’t want to mess this weekend up. I’m probably trying too hard. Slap me if I start to cut Nell’s food.”
“Sure, even though I believe in non-violence.”
“Thanks. I’m worn to a nub from the movie-shoot. Thought I was supposed to observe the production from afar, not ride in on a white horse.”
“That bad?”
“My phone hasn’t stopped ringing. I’d gotten myself up to speed with the macros and micros of the production, even suggesting a few tweaks to the script to allow Paducah to shine. I facilitated umpteen permits, orchestrated the closing of streets, told residents that the car chases and gunshots they would hear wouldn’t be real, and two dozen additional tasks that people should’ve delegated to others, rather than expecting the mayor to perform them.
“But when I dare to believe I’ve put out that day’s fires, Tammy Molitor and Stephen Frese, the producers, call to say they need to change the shooting schedule. Members of the Carpenters Union threaten to strike because, well, the actors and writers succeeded with their strikes, so why not take their shot? The movie’s star, Hollywood legend Sean Emerson, doesn’t like Limoncello LaCroix, but Sam’s Club sells a combination package that includes more of that flavor than the other two, so craft-services wants me to rectify that travesty.
“The director has rewritten the script, so now I need to import a herd of purebred unicorns to juggle Faberge eggs, but the unicorns have been delayed in transit from outer Narnia. So, now I have to cut the overtime I promised to the police department, which further stresses my already fraught relationship with PPD.
“So, what do I do in the middle of this lunacy—other than cursing Richard Lewy for approving this fiasco during his administration? I invite my long-lost family to spend time with me. That’s like a drowning woman trying to do her taxes between gurgles.
“And yet voters elected me in a landslide. Go figure. I haven’t had sessions recently with Dr. Bourget because I wanted to save her from having to find another phrase for ‘unhinged moron.’ In other words, sleep and I are currently enemies.”
“I’m sorry. You’ve taken on too much again, but at least you have your sense of humor. That’s a good sign. If you want me to, I can take them to lunch and to watch the action scene while you nap.”
“Thank you, but I can’t duck out after I invited them. However, to make sure they don’t flee, never to return, I’d like not to have to pretend to be sane. I know better than to ask you for acting lessons, but maybe I can get Sean Emerson to give me a crash course.”
“You’re going to crash hard soon. How much coffee did you drink?”
“Cups or pots?”
She laughed and shook her head.
I looked at my watch. Ashley was forty-three minutes late. I didn’t want to be a mother hen, but I couldn’t help myself, despite Ashley being an adult whose nineteenth birthday would be the next day. Not long before, she’d lost the grandmother who’d raised her, Janet Loy. In January, she’d lost her drug-addicted mother, and Ashley couldn’t remember having met her father. She and a Chihuahua named Chica that she’d inherited upon Janet’s death had moved into my large ramshackle house in Lower Town after she’d sold the house that she’d lived in with Grammie J—her nickname for Janet, a former member of Paducah Quilters Quorum.
Ashley was supposed to meet us at the museum before we all went to lunch at Kirchhoff’s Bakery and Deli a couple blocks away. We would then watch the big escape scene that would be shot for True Tomorrow, the $18 million independent heist film that had been shooting throughout Paducah for the previous two weeks. We would attend a movie that night in Maiden Alley Cinema, before having a sleepover at my house—a sleepover that would, of course, include pizzas from Mellow Mushroom.
Then we’d celebrate Ashley’s birthday on Sunday, before my visitors joined my fellow quilters at Dakota’s house for our PQQ session at 2 o’clock. The weekend was jam-packed—probably too ambitious. But I’d felt so welcomed and appreciated in January in the MacGregors’s home that I wanted to express my gratitude, show off Paducah, and deepen our family bonds.
However, what may have appeared to be kindness and generosity on my part probably involved less-noble traits and feelings: a longing for a loving upbringing I never had—and a need to belong. I’m not naturally a joiner, except for PQQ. I’d rather have six good friends in whom I can confide or to whom I can provide aid or counsel than have ninety-four friends who know little more about me than what I choose to post on Facebook.
Of course, as someone who’s lived in Paducah for most of my life, and as the mayor when the events I’m describing took place, I had more than a nodding acquaintance with hundreds of Paducahans and other residents of McCracken County. But that didn’t mean my social calendar was filled with book clubs, church groups, pickle-ball sessions, painting classes, parent-teacher conferences, band practices, game nights, and chess competitions. I considered myself lucky if I had enough energy and brain power left to read three chapters before I began tossing and turning each night.
