“Oh my,” Jane said.
“Oh my, indeed,” Katy replied. “She didn’t have many friends here. She’d just been married and it was only family attending. No real bridal party. Nothing.”
Cora had noted the very small wedding.
Cora and Jane exchanged expressions of curiosity. Why would sweet, gentlemanly Adrian be attracted to someone like Marcy? Cora’s curiosity sparked. She might find out more about Marcy tonight. She and Adrian planned on attending a macramé workshop together, then having a quiet dinner.
She rarely asked men she dated about their past love lives. It wasn’t good practice. But in this case, it might help take the bracelet off her new boyfriend’s arm.
Chapter 14
The mystery of Marcy Grimm was now even murkier. Noted mermaid folklorist with five books in the gift shop. Five. And Cora could not even write one—even though she’d been approached over and over again.
Jane picked one up and read over the back cover copy. “This one is about the Sea Glass Island Mermaid. Evidently, there’s a legend about her.”
Cora refrained from rolling her eyes. A touristy lure if she’d ever seen one. But some of the other books appeared quite academic. Except for the mermaid art book, which was a large coffee-table book full of mermaid art from all over the world—some of it ancient.
“Oh, there’s the Waterhouse mermaid I love so much!” Jane said.
“That’s the print you have hanging in your bathroom,” Cora said.
“I love the Pre-Raphaelites. Waterhouse is my favorite,” Jane said.
“It’s kind of fancy for you,” Cora said.
“I like some fancy things,” Jane said. “Just not all fancy things.” She grinned. “I don’t like fancy doilies.”
“But you do like my doily skirt, right?” Cora said, flipping through one of Marcy’s books.
“We are selling out of those books. I think that might be the last one of the art book,” the saleslady said.
“Really?” Cora said.
“The author of the book recently passed away,” the woman said. “So all of the sudden people want her books.”
“Well, this is a beautiful book,” Cora said, and placed it back on the shelf.
The saleslady nodded. She was dressed in a beach-appropriate, colorful, floral print dress.
“Did you know Marcy?” Cora asked.
“I guess you could say I did,” she said, smiling at a passerby. “We had a book launch party here for her once.”
“I’ve heard she wasn’t a nice person,” Cora said. Jane poked her in the ribs.
“Well, she was always pleasant to me,” she replied. “But I know people who’ve had run-ins with her.” She lifted an eyebrow. “But the whole family is like that. Wealth does that to you sometimes. So they say. I don’t know many wealthy people so I couldn’t say.”
“Such a shame about what happened to her,” Jane said in a hushed voice.
“Yes, a tragedy, after she married the love of her life,” the woman said with a sigh. “It’s the stuff of romance novels.”
“What do you mean?” Jane said.
“They dated in high school, on the sly. He was from a poor family and her family didn’t want them dating. Eventually they broke up. But years later, they found each other again. Romantic, don’t you think?” She smiled.
A customer came up to her. “Do you have this shirt in pink?”
“No, I’m sorry. We only have what’s on the floor,” she replied.
“I suppose that’s romantic,” Jane said once the customer wandered off.
“He must be devastated,” Cora said.
The woman nodded her head slowly. “I heard he’s been sedated.”
Cora’s hand went to her chest. “How awful. Is he in the hospital, or is he at home?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s with his mother,” she said. “Now, there’s a character for you.”
Cora picked up another book. “What do you mean?”
“She’s a psychic, or voodoo queen, or something,” she replied. “Lives near the swamp. I never go over there. It scares the bejesus out of me. Are you going to buy a book?”
Cora thought a moment. What would Adrian say if he saw her with one of Marcy’s books?
“I’ll take this,” Jane said, reaching for the mermaid art book.
“And I’ll take this one. I might be back for the others,” Cora said, grabbing The Mermaid of Sea Glass Island book. It was the cheapest one. She would buy the other books as e-books. Her curiosity about Marcy needed to stay private, for now.
“Voodoo queen,” Jane said, as she purchased her book. “I’ve never met a voodoo queen.”
“At least not that you’re aware of,” Cora joked.
“She’s a perfectly lovely woman,” the saleswoman said as she slipped Jane’s book into a bag. “You don’t want to cross her.” She winked.
“No, I suppose not,” Jane said.
Cora assumed she was joking, but she still felt a cold shiver. Psychics. Mermaids. Murder on the beach.
She handed the saleslady her book.
“Now, this is an interesting book,” she said.
“I thought so,” Cora replied.
“I had an uncle who swore he saw her,” the woman said as she swiped Cora’s card.
“Saw who?” Cora said.
“The mermaid, dear,” she said, looking at her above the top of her glasses.
Cora laughed.
“I’m serious,” the saleslady said, as she place Cora’s book into a bag. “Of course, it was a long time ago, before the storm took away a large chunk of our island. My uncle was not a man to invent stories. He said he saw her plain as day, swimming. Said he’s never seen such a beautiful creature and she glowed like an angel or fairy.” A wistful note came through in her voice.
Cora refrained from rolling her eyes. She was aware of things in this world that couldn’t be explained and she didn’t want to be the kind of person who was closed off to angels, for example. But mermaids? Mermaids were another matter.
Chapter 15
Cora and Adrian sat in the small classroom with a few others. Jane was right; most people were drained by this point. These miniclasses were designed for the few who weren’t. Several more days of teaching craft blogging loomed ahead of Cora. She was almost tapped out. But that was for personal reasons. She couldn’t allow the situation with Adrian to seep in to her professional life.
“Should be starting soon, hey?” he said.
He wore a pair of khaki slacks and a short-sleeve, floral shirt. The green in the flowers on the shirt brought out his jade-green eyes even more.
“I hope so,” Cora said, as Zooey walked in the room. Blond, tall, and flashy, she was everything Cora was not.
Adrian sat back, glanced at Cora, and raised an eyebrow. She knew he’d rather be somewhere else; a macramé class was not what he came here for. He came to be with her—and he’d gotten way more than he bargained for, with the ex-girlfriend’s marriage, then death, in quick succession.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Zooey said. “This evening is a miniclass and I’m going to give you a little background on macramé.” She paused. “Macramé is my life. I think, eat, and dream macramé.”
The room silenced. Oh boy, Cora thought. And she dared not glance at Adrian. She didn’t want to see his reaction to such pretension.
“But you are not expected to feel that way. Not tonight anyway,” Zooey said, and smiled.
Maybe she is trying to be funny.
Zooey walked across the room and preened over the supplies. She glanced at her assistant. “Can we pass these out now?” She held up strands of colored cord.
He stepped in and passed out the provisions. A few bowls on a table nearby contained charms, sea glass, and seashells. Cora assumed they would be selecting their materials from those bowls.
“When most people think of macramé, they imagine the 1970s version,” Zooey said. “Right?”
T
here were murmurs of agreement in the small classroom. “Well, it was popular in the 1970s but has made quite a comeback.”
“I remember the owls,” one woman said, and laughed. “Everywhere, those owl wall hangings?”
“Yes,” Zooey said. “And some of them now are worth a fortune to the right collectors.”
“What?” Adrian mouthed to Cora, who shrugged. She had no idea. She displayed a few macramé items purchased from a vintage shop in her attic apartment back in Indigo Gap. But a few of the crafters she had met through the years sent her wall hangings and rugs, now scattered through Kildare House.
“But macramé’s history goes back to the Babylonians and Assyrians,” Zooey continued. “The word itself comes from the thirteenth-century Arabic weavers’ word migramah, meaning ‘fringe.’ Macramé is a form of textile making using knotting rather than weaving or knitting. Its primary knots are the square knot and forms of ‘hitching’—full hitch and double half hitches.”
“I read it was popular in the Victorian era,” a woman said.
“Yes, quite,” Zooey replied. “It’s had moments of popularity over the decades.”
All the students now had their cords. Cora loved the way it felt in her hands.
“You can do so much with it, which is one of the reasons I love it. Wall hangings, articles of clothing, bedspreads, tablecloths, draperies, plant hangers, and other furnishings, to necklaces, anklets, and bracelets,” Zooey said. “And tonight, we want to keep it simple before you all run off to dinner.”
At the mention of dinner, Cora was suddenly aware she should have eaten something this afternoon instead of shopping. But she couldn’t resist learning more about Marcy Grimm. She wanted to know all about her. Not only was she Adrian’s ex-girlfriend, but he was suspected of her murder. The more she could find out about her, the more she felt she might be able to help Adrian.
“Okay,” Zooey said. “Let’s get started. Some of you have ribbons, some have yarn, and some have cords. If you’d rather have something else than what you were given, feel free to switch.”
After everybody made their switches, Zooey told them to choose a charm or a stone or tiny shell from a bowl. “Or several, whatever you want,” she said.
She showed them how to make the knots for the bracelets, and Adrian’s long fingers moved with a dexterity that Cora admired.
After the class, Cora wore two bracelets, both made of sea glass and mermaid charms, one she crafted and one Adrian made for her. And off they went to the Drunken Mermaid, a bar-restaurant, which was not in the resort.
“Thank goodness, we’re going off site tonight,” Cora said, reaching for Adrian’s arm.
“Do you feel like you’re in a fishbowl?” he said, grinning.
“Sometimes,” she said. “Though I suppose it’s to be expected. But it will be wonderful to relax and just be with you.”
“Thank you, Cora.”
“For what?”
“For not making a big deal of this ex-girlfriend business,” he said.
They had decided to walk to the restaurant instead of taking a cab, and Cora was glad of it. She wanted the opportunity to speak without the gossipmongers surrounding them.
“I’m still not sure what you mean,” she said.
“I mean by the fact I didn’t tell you about Marcy,” he said.
“Well, Adrian, I’m not thrilled about it, but we’ve just started seeing each other. I don’t know how much of your private life before me I need to be aware of,” she said.
“You’re amazing,” he said, and leaned over to kiss her.
She allowed herself to enjoy the kiss. The ocean sounded in the background. The scent of the ocean breezes wafted. The kiss. The ocean. The knot of tension inside her unraveled and loosened.
“Besides,” she said, “I have a past, too.” She moved away from him and pulled him along the path.
“Um . . . in what way?”
She waved him off and kept walking.
Chapter 16
Cora nearly swooned when she entered the Drunken Mermaid. The scent of garlic, onions, and rosemary wafted toward them.
“Table for two. Adrian Brisbane,” Adrian said, as he walked up to the host.
The eyes of the eaters followed Cora and Adrian as they were seated. Was it because they were a couple of tourists at a restaurant frequented by locals? Or was it that Adrian was so tall and gorgeous? Cora wondered.
“It smells fabulous in here,” Adrian said.
“I know, right?” Cora said. The delicious aromas alerted every one of her senses.
“That’s him. I know it is,” came a voice across the dining room.
Cora strained to see what was going on. She didn’t see anything but a group of people sitting at a large table in the corner. The restaurant was dimly lit.
Their server came up to the table with the menu and wine list.
Cora glanced over the menu. Italian seafood. Shrimp scampi—yes, that was what she wanted.
“Goddamnit!” The male voice came across the room again. “Let me go. I want a word with the bastard!”
Now the other eaters were agape as several servers ran to the area, and a manager as well.
“What’s going on?” Cora said, looking around the place.
“I have no idea,” Adrian said, and sipped his water. “But I’m hungry and would like to order.” He grinned, revealing his deep dimple.
“Me too,” Cora said.
But as soon as the words came out of her mouth, a strange, wild-eyed man ran to their table. And the next thing Cora knew, other men were trying to hold him back. Cora’s heart raced. What could he possibly want with them?
Adrian turned his head and started to rise from his chair. “What—” he began to say, but the man tore away from the servers trying to hold him back and he lunged at Adrian, who fell to the floor as his chair tumbled.
The man pummeled Adrian, his fist coming down on his face.
Several onlookers gasped and screamed.
Cora stood and edged her way in between the men who were trying to grab Adrian’s attacker and yanked the guy by his hair.
“Ayyy!” he yowled.
She straddled him and wrapped her arm around his neck and squeezed.
“Call the police, you idiots. Don’t just stand there!” she cried.
“They’re on their way,” a server said.
“Let me up!” the man said.
“Not on your life,” she said. “Are you okay, Adrian?”
“I think so,” he said. “I’m a little squished. But I’m okay.” He was still underneath the crazed man whom Cora was straddling.
“What the hell, lady?” the man said to her. “Why are you helping a murderer?”
“What?”
“He killed my Marcy!” the man said.
“It’s okay, miss, we’ve got the situation under control,” a newly arrived uniformed officer said as he pulled her from the man, with a not-quite stifled grin.
“Adrian didn’t kill anybody,” Cora managed to say, though her chest felt as if it were on fire and there was a lack of oxygen in the room.
“You’re crazy to be involved with him!” the man said.
“Can we please calm down?” the officer asked.
“Yes, please,” the manager said. “Let’s take this into my office, now.”
Another officer helped Cora pull Adrian to his feet. His nose was bloody and his left eye was swelling already.
“Your eye! How awful!” Cora said, and pulled a napkin from the table, wiping his face.
“Attractive, right?” Adrian winced.
“Let’s go into the office, please,” the officer said. Cora and Adrian followed.
He looked sheepishly at Cora. “Thanks for rescuing me.”
She tried to smile but couldn’t. Her mind was trying to catch up with what her body had done. Trying to make sense of what had happened. That man thought Adrian had killed Marcy. That man must be . . . must be . . . Her head was swimmi
ng and she dizzied. He must be Marcy Grimm’s husband.
Adrenaline coursed through her. Did he believe Adrian killed his wife?
Why?
What was going on here?
The group of them entered the small office.
“I think we need a medic,” the officer said.
“We told you it was not a good idea to go off the resort,” the other officer admonished Adrian.
“He’s done nothing wrong,” Cora said. “Why should his movements be curtailed while we’re here? I don’t understand.”
Her eyes skimmed the room as the men took her in. She was certain she was a mess, but she didn’t care.
“Are you okay?” the manager said to the man who attacked Adrian.
Cora studied him. The man was certainly not okay. His wild-eyed bearing and dark hair contrasted against his sickly pallor. Yet, he was strong and had knocked Adrian right down. She guessed he was about her age. His eyes were circled and swollen. A brief pang of sorrow and regret moved through Cora. Grief did strange and awful things to people.
The door opened. An imposing woman entered the room. “What a scene,” she said. “Son”—she turned and looked at him—“we’re going home. Adrian, I think you should go back to the resort and stay there. Marcy Grimm was a popular person on this island and we all want her death avenged.”
She took in Cora. “And I don’t know who you are, lady, but great moves.”
Cora extended her hand. You always catch more flies with honey than vinegar, she heard her grandmother’s voice say in her head. “Why, thank you. I’m Cora Chevalier, one of the teachers at the craft retreat. And I’m Adrian’s girlfriend.”
The woman cupped both of her hands. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rue Dupres. I’m sorry for my son’s behavior, but he’s grieving.”
Macramé Murder Page 6
