Cora saw Paul enter the room and he gravitated toward Liv and the group of women she was sitting with. Then the two of them walked toward the table, where he started loading his plate with food. He probably really needed to eat.
“It’s on our list,” Sheila said. “But we also wanted to check out the basket shop.”
“Marianne has really inspired us.”
Just then Marianne’s head turned toward them, letting them know she’d heard the comment, and she grinned.
Jane clinked on her glass and stood on the bottom stair. “Can I have your attention please?”
The room quieted.
“I’d like to make a toast to Cora,” she said, then cleared her throat. “A few years back, she envisioned a craft retreat. A safe place for women to come and explore new crafts and get away from it all. Kildare House is her vision made real. Thank you, Cora, for allowing me to tag along.”
“Hear, hear!” Ruby said, and whooped.
Marianne joined in the whooping. The crowd cheered and laughed, toasting Cora, who was grinning from ear to ear.
* * *
Later, after the cleanup, Cora and Adrian planned to get together, but both were so exhausted they said their good-byes on the front porch. His arms slipped around her and his lips found hers. Finally.
He tasted of chocolate and champagne and as he pressed his lips against hers, he drew her farther into him. This was not a man who lacked confidence.
His control, tinged in tenderness, left her breathless, her heart racing, and the world seemed to stop spinning. The night circled around them as she kissed him back and felt her insides quiver.
More was the only word forming in her mind, as she willed her knees to stop trembling.
Chapter 46
Monday morning found Cora waking up with a stretch and a smile. Life was good. Her second retreat was over. Her love life was taking a good turn. And she felt rested and refreshed.
As she readied to meet Jane to attend an early meeting with Chelsea, she thought about the missing Gracie, the murdered Henry, and the professor.
Most importantly, how were they all connected—if they even were? She and Jane hoped to find out. After all, Paul was staying with her. And Jane’s London was heartbroken and frightened over Gracie’s disappearance. They both had a vested, personal interest in this case.
Luna reached up her paw and gently touched Cora’s mouth.
“Good morning to you, too,” Cora said. Luna began to purr. “I suppose you want to eat.”
She untangled herself from her quilts and rose to meet the day.
* * *
After Jane dropped London off at school, she drove Cora to the diner to meet with Chelsea, who was already there, perched at a corner table. After they ordered breakfast, they got down to it. She was not one to mince words—she didn’t have time for pleasantries.
“I’d like to help, but I’m not sure what you want from me,” she said, and lifted her cup of steaming coffee to her mouth. She blew on it, then gingerly took a sip.
“We’re curious about a couple of things,” Jane said. “Did you know about Gracie’s depression?”
She nodded. “Yes, I knew. Of course. But she was on medication and she was seeing a doctor. I never had any qualms about leaving my kids with her. She had it under control.”
Cora thought it was mighty generous of her. As was her turning over the keys to Gracie’s apartment at her house. Gracie’s apartment was situated over the family’s attached garage. Cora and Jane were going to trace Gracie’s day. And it began at her apartment. Of course, the police would have already been there. But it still might be helpful.
“I have to be honest,” Jane said. “I’m not sure if I would have been quite so comfortable with her staying with London if I had known. Sometimes the medication just stops working. Sometimes, something happens to set a depressed person off. What would happen to London if she had an episode when she was under her care?”
Chelsea hesitated.
Cora was impressed with Jane’s line of questioning.
“Depression doesn’t exactly work like that,” Chelsea said. “At least it didn’t with her. I kept in touch with her about it. We chatted about it often. She seemed fine.”
She squirmed in her seat, as if she couldn’t get comfortable. The server arrived with a huge tray full of their breakfast orders. She placed plates down in front of the three women.
Cora’s stomach growled. The smell of her chocolate pancakes heightened her hunger.
“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” Jane asked, before biting into her cheese omelet.
“Well, it wasn’t a secret. I guess I figured you knew. Besides, she’s such a capable young woman,” she replied. “Even with her problems, she was the best.” A group of gray-haired ladies walked by, laughing.
Was, Cora noted. Cora was not ready to use the term was when referring to Gracie.
“So, do you think she’s dead?” Cora asked.
“Cora!” Jane said, and dropped her fork.
“As a mom, as a person, I have hope, I suppose,” Chelsea said, “But as a lawyer and someone who has seen missing person cases . . . Well, with each passing day I have to say it would be a miracle if she turned up alive.” Her voice cracked and she gazed off. Her carefully made-up eyes began to water. She dabbed her napkin at the corners.
“I’m sorry,” Cora said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She waved her off. “My kids are heartbroken. That’s what hurts. I don’t quite know how to handle it. And I need to hire another nanny soon. I don’t know what to do about it. Right now, my mom is staying with the kids, but that’s not an ideal situation. I may have to find another student. But that can be iffy.”
She shoved food around on her plate—but nothing made its way in her mouth yet.
“What have you heard about Professor Rawlings?” Jane asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Is he still being questioned?”
“I can’t comment on any of that,” she said. “But I can tell you that the police are looking at him.”
Cora was nearly swooning over her pancakes, which were fluffy cakes full of chocolate pancake goodness. She cut a piece and held it up to her mouth, lifting her eyes, feeling like someone was watching her. Her eyes met those of a man at the cash register, who quickly shifted his gaze. Who was he? He looked so familiar.
“Why don’t you call Brodsky for an update?” Jane asked. “He seems to like you.”
Chelsea laughed. “If he likes you, you’re one of the few.”
Cora swallowed her bite of pancake. “I’ll give him a call later. But he won’t tell me anything he’s not supposed to tell me. Believe me.”
She glanced back up where the man had been standing. He had his back to her. But now she remembered him—she’d seen him in here once before and had thought he might be a tourist. And he was the young man who came to her door peddling computer repair services. Today, his long, stringy hair was pulled into a ponytail.
“But you helped him with the last case. It seems like he might come to rely on you,” Jane said.
Now Cora laughed. “The only reason I was involved with it is because I had to be.”
“Kind of like this case,” Jane said.
“There’s actually two cases here,” Cora said, her attention now back squarely on Chelsea and Jane. “Have they made any headway with Henry’s murder?”
Chelsea nodded. “We are expecting more DNA results this morning.” She glanced at her watch.
“DNA? So quickly?” Cora asked.
“There was a rush placed on it,” she said. “And there was an opening at the lab, which helped.”
“What kind of DNA did they get from him?” Jane asked.
“I know there was some hair and skin. He put up a good fight evidently,” Chelsea said, and finally took a bite of her scrambled egg.
Cora’s stomach twisted into a hard ball. Put up a good fight. Poor Henry. So y
oung. She said a silent prayer to the universe that justice would be done for Henry.
“So many times DNA evidence leads nowhere. I’ve seen it so often. It could be his girlfriend’s hair he still had on him, for example. I know he didn’t have a girlfriend, but you know what I mean.”
“But of course they have to try,” Jane said.
“Of course,” she replied. The conversation halted as the women ate their breakfast. Cora mentally sorted through what she learned here this morning. Not much. But they did know the professor and his girlfriend were still being held. And they also knew the DNA results on Henry’s murder were rushed and would be in this morning. Cora knew enough about these matters to know the rushing of DNA tests meant someone was taking quite an interest in his case. These things were not taken lightly. Shoving aside other tests in order to do his. Perhaps it meant they were close to finding the killer.
“I wonder if Henry’s death has anything to do with Gracie’s disappearance. I hate to keep harping on this, but it seems too coincidental these events both occurred to such good friends. Friends who were both linked to the professor and were in this group therapy thing at the school,” Cora said.
Chelsea shrugged and she bit into a piece of whole wheat toast.
“We know the professor is an egotistical ass,” Jane said.
Chelsea laughed and coughed.
“Are you okay?” Cora said.
She nodded, her face red from coughing and choking a bit on her toast.
“I love hearing him described that way. So spot-on,” she said.
“But I think the question is, does being an egotistical ass mean you’re a killer or an abductor?” Cora said. She didn’t think so. The image she held in her mind was of him sitting on the park bench feeding the birds. Sure, he could be both an egotistical ass and a bird lover. But a killer?
Chelsea lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Jane didn’t.
“I wish things were that simple,” Chelsea said.
Chapter 47
Before Jane and Cora began on their journey retracing Gracie’s activities on the day she disappeared, they headed back to Kildare House to check on things there. It was still early in the day, around 9 AM. They knew some of the retreaters were still around. Sheila and Donna were staying until the next day. Liv planned to leave today. They were still concerned about Liv’s safety and wanted to check in with her before the day got away from them.
“She’s not up yet,” Donna told them. Donna and Sheila were sitting at the kitchen table, planning their day of touring the local craft shops.
“She does like to sleep in a bit,” Jane said.
“She was up late,” Sheila replied. “I heard her in her room around two, I think.”
“Two?”
“What was she doing up at two?”
“I thought she went to bed when we all went to bed,” Cora said.
“I think she couldn’t sleep. I heard her digging around in the kitchen,” Donna said.
“Well, I’ll leave her a note to call me when she gets up,” Cora said. She scribbled the note and placed it in front of the coffeemaker.
“Hope you two have fun,” Cora said. “We’ll catch you later. If you need anything, call me. Okay?”
“Sure thing,” Donna said.
By the time Cora and Jane arrived at Gracie’s apartment in Chelsea’s home, they sorted over all the possible scenarios of Henry’s murder, Gracie’s disappearance, and how it could be connected or not. But nothing they imagined prepared them for walking into Gracie’s apartment.
Cora reached over on a wall and flipped on the light switch. There was only one window in the place and it was dark, almost dungeon-like. The light helped. But even the décor was dark. One wall was painted black. No posters, no pictures, nothing.
“I’d never imagined Gracie would have a black empty wall,” Jane said.
“Maybe she didn’t do the decorating. This really isn’t her place, you know? She lived here for free for taking care of the children,” Cora said.
Jane sighed, deep and heavy. “Okay,” she said. “Her day. It would start in her bedroom, of course,” she said.
They walked passed the black wall and Cora told herself it was just a wall, why did it unsettle her so much?
The bed was made—a burgundy chenille bedspread. Cora almost yelped with relief that her bedspread offered a little color. On either side of her bed were matching nightstands, both filled with photos. Most of them were her with Paul. There they were at a wedding, sitting at a table, his arm around her, she was holding a drink, smiling. There they were at a park, riding a carousel, laughing. Or at least she was. He was gazing at her.
“Wow, they took a lot of photos together,” Cora said.
“Paul loved to take her picture. I remember her mentioning something about that,” Jane said. “So she woke up and made her bed.”
“Probably went into the bathroom,” Cora said as she walked into the tiny room. It was full of beauty products: makeup, lotions, and a blow-dryer still plugged in. She walked back out into the bedroom.
“She would have gotten dressed here,” Jane said. She stood next to her dresser, which held a small jewelry box and a book. Jane picked up the book. “Oh, here’s her calendar,” she said.
“That’s odd, you’d think the police would have taken it,” Cora replied.
Jane flipped through it. “There are only a few things in it. Maybe that’s why they left it. It looks like she didn’t keep up with it.”
“She probably used her phone more,” Cora said. “I know I do. I’d be lost without mine.”
“Oh, this is interesting. It slipped out from between the pages,” Jane said, holding up an old postcard with ruby red shoes on it and the quote, “There’s no place like home.” She turned it over. “From some guy named Ted. ‘Saw this in an old shop, thought of you. Love, Ted.’”
“Ted? I wonder who that is?” Cora said.
“No last name,” Jane replied.
Cora shrugged. “She does appear to be over the top about The Wizard of Oz,” Cora said. “Look at that.” She pointed to a print of Dorothy and all the main characters on the far wall.
“She was reading the book when she was at our place earlier,” Jane said.
“Have you ever read it?” Cora asked.
Jane shrugged. “No, I’ve seen the movie countless times. Never wanted to read the book. Have you?”
“I may have,” she said. “I remember having the book. I just can’t remember if I read it.”
The two of them walked out of the bedroom and back into the living room, where there was another print of a Wizard of Oz scene.
“She probably went into the kitchen for coffee next,” Jane said. The two of them walked into the kitchen. Coffee was still in the pot.
“It’s odd she would have left any coffee. She was quite the coffee drinker,” Jane said.
“Maybe she was running late. Or got distracted,” Cora said.
Jane opened the refrigerator. “Milk, beer, butter. All the usual stuff.”
A rinsed-out bowl was in the sink. A cereal package sat on the counter.
“So she had time for a bowl of cereal, but not to finish her coffee?” Jane said.
“It could be her second pot?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see any coffee cups around.”
“Maybe she took it with her. Yes, she always had a take-along coffee mug in her hand,” Jane said.
“Then leftover coffee in the pot is even more odd,” Cora said.
Jane nodded.
“So she eats her cereal, rinses out her bowl, and leaves in a hurry, leaves some coffee behind and heads to your place?”
“No, she had an appointment that morning,” Jane said. She pulled out her phone and reviewed her notes. “She had a hair appointment, but she never showed. She wasn’t scheduled to be at my place until later.”
They walked back into the living room. The garage apartment was small and efficient, but it did have mor
e room than Cora thought. Other than the black wall in the living room, it was decorated pretty much the way she would have imagined a law student’s room—except, of course, for all The Wizard of Oz stuff. Bookcases filled the living room and there was even one in the bedroom—mostly legal books and textbooks.
“I’m not sure this exercise has yielded any results,” Jane said.
“It’s told us a lot,” Cora said. “She was a very serious student, looking forward to law school.”
“I guess you’re right. But I could have told you that.”
“She had a thing for The Wizard of Oz,” Cora said.
“We already knew that,” Jane said.
“But we didn’t know how much. I mean, really, it’s the only kind of decoration she has.”
“True.”
“Law and The Wizard of Oz,” Cora said.
Jane sat down on the couch and crossed her arms.
“And we know she was either in a hurry or distracted enough to not finish the coffee she made.”
Cora sat next to Jane. She had a feeling they shouldn’t be here. Or like they were invading Gracie’s privacy. But they really hadn’t dug through drawers or cabinets or anything. Cora’s stomach fluttered at the very thought of it.
“Should we look around more?” Jane asked.
“I don’t know,” Cora said. “What would we find in her drawers and closets that would lead us into knowing where she’s disappeared to? The point of this is to see how she went through her day, trace her footsteps to see if anything is out of order. I have a weird sense of invading her personal space.”
Jane nodded. “Me too. I feel sad here.”
The room, with its black wall and Wizard of Oz prints, a couple of mismatched chairs and worn sofa, was not warm in the least. The two of them sat there, taking it in, when Cora’s phone rang.
She glanced at her screen. “It’s Brodsky,” she said.
Jane pulled a face. “Don’t tell him where we are.”
“Hello,” Cora said.
“Hey, it’s Brodsky,” he said. “We need to talk. Can you come to the station?”
“When?” she asked.
“Now,” he said.
“What? Why? This sounds urgent.”
No Charm Intended Page 18
