Knot in My Backyard (A Quilting Mystery) Read Free

street.
    In the ball field directly behind the squad cars stood a two-story structure the size of a small apartment building made of corrugated metal painted maroon and gold, completely blocking Ed’s view of the San Gabriel Mountains beyond.
    Ed stared bitterly at the eyesore. “That’s what I have to look at every minute of every day.”
    When the Joshua Beaumont School began renovating the existing Little League field two years ago, no one in the neighborhood suspected that they were actually planning to build a million-dollar baseball stadium. Nor did we ever suspect they could get away with erecting an ugly two-story building obliterating the view of several homes on our street. By the time the neighbors found out, the project was a fait accompli. The houses nearest the field suffered the most, especially Ed’s.
    “I used to enjoy working in my yard.” He turned his back to the maroon-and-gold atrocity looming only sixty feet away. “Now I can’t stand to go out there.” He waved toward his dry, weedy backyard, complete with an empty hot tub, fading in the sun. This young bachelor liked to have the occasional barbeque, but clearly no one had been in the backyard for months.
    “I’m so sorry, Ed. Beaumont School has given you more than your share of grief.”
    “Yeah. After the relative quiet of summer, the new school year has started and those kids are back there, practicing every afternoon again. It’s just a matter of time before they have their first game of ‘fall ball.’ Between the noise and the ugly view . . . well, I’d like to blow the bastards up! Oh, sorry.”
    “We’ve heard that word before.” I smiled. “Everyone feels the same.”
    “So, what’s the deal?” He offered Lucy and me seats on his leather sofa.
    “Dax Martin is dead. I found his body this morning on the riverbank behind the field.”
    “You? Found? No kidding!” He looked genuinely surprised. “What happened?”
    “Someone murdered him. There was a lot of blood. I don’t really know any more.”
    “I can’t say I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
    Lucy tilted her head slightly and looked toward Ed. “Martha’s told me about the troubles with the school. Why didn’t you go to the police? There are laws against noise pollution.”
    “You don’t understand.” Ed swept his hands through the air in frustration. “Beaumont School is bulletproof. The mayor, the police chief, the DA, and half the city council are either alumni or send their kids. Some of those very kids play baseball at that stadium.”
    “Why don’t you all get together and hire a lawyer?” She looked at both of us.
    Ed sighed. “Because they’ve got a bunch of high-priced lawyers—school parents who’ll defend their cause for free. And some of the other parents? They’re the ones who’re supposed to enforce those laws. They make sure our complaints are buried. Our resources are limited. We’re no match for them.”
    “There must be something you can do.”
    The corner of Ed’s mouth twitched slightly. “Actually, I’ve been doing some research online. I think I might have uncovered something wonky between the school and the City of Los Angeles. I discovered plans for the stadium were never submitted for approval to the city, and the city never sent out an inspector during construction. Same thing for the environmental impact report. So, far as I can tell, no records are on file for reports, permits, inspections—nothing.”
    Lucy looked puzzled. “How can you build a million-dollar stadium without city approval?”
    Ed shrugged. “I’ve tried to find out from the Army Corps of Engineers. They manage all the land in the Sepulveda Flood Control Basin—all the open land west of the Sepulveda Dam, including the area behind us where the Beaumont Stadium sits. So far, they’ve refused to hand over any of their records. They’ll only admit to leasing the land to Beaumont, but they won’t release the terms of the agreement.”
    She frowned.