3 Revenge of the Crafty Corpse

by Lois Winston

  I also realized that with Mabel dead, we were one crafter short. Did I choose someone else from the group of crafters not in need of extra cash, or should I ask Clara to pick some extra projects from those not chosen? I saw no point in asking my eleven surviving crafters for their input. I knew what they’d decide. So I made an executive decision to toss the problem off to Clara.

  I ducked out of Sunnyside without encountering either Shirley or Lucille, and headed home. I still had one more interview to get through today, but I wouldn’t be the one asking the questions.

  eighteen

  When I suggested Detective Spader come to my home, not only was I thinking about all those cartons of binders but Alex’s and Nick’s work schedules. Both boys would be working this evening.

  As for Mama, given her mysterious and secretive ways of late, I didn’t expect to find her home, either. If she was, I’d prep her ahead of time, warning her to keep her mouth firmly sealed regarding Lucille.

  Mama would like nothing better than to see my mother-in-law locked up for the rest of her life, even if she had to spin a web of fiction to make it happen. Then again, if asked, Lucille would probably profess a similar desire regarding Mama.

  I arrived home to find both the house and the driveway empty. I had no idea whether Zack was off running an errand or on assignment again in some faraway part of the globe. Our relationship hadn’t progressed to the point where we shared our daily schedules. Something told me no matter how far the relationship progressed, I’d never really know where Zack was on any given day.

  After walking Mephisto and letting Ralph out of his cage, I made myself a tuna sandwich, cut up some carrot sticks and cucumber slices to go with it, and ate dinner while watching the news. My doorbell rang as Diane Sawyer was signing off for the evening from ABC World News.

  “Detective Spader,” I greeted him. “Please come in.” I led him into the dining room where I’d stacked the cartons of binders on the floor and left some pertinent ones spread out across the table.

  “Have a seat. Would you like a cold drink?”

  “A glass of ice water, if you don’t mind, ma’am. This heat is something else.”

  Especially when you’re lugging around an extra hundred pounds or so, I thought. Not to mention wearing a jacket and tie. I wondered if he also wore a bullet-proof vest under his shirt. I’d seen a piece on the news about a device that cops hooked up to the air-conditioning vent in their cars and slipped the other end between their vest and body. From the looks of him, I doubted Detective Spader owned one.

  I headed for the kitchen as Ralph zoomed into the dining room and perched on the back of the chair opposite the detective. “Don’t mind Ralph,” I called over my shoulder. “He’s just curious.”

  When I returned with his water, Detective Spader already had his little spiral notebook out, a pencil stub poised in his hand, ready

  to take down any pertinent information I had to offer him. He took a long swig of water, then asked, “What was it you wanted to tell me, Mrs. Pollack?”

  “I found some clues in Lyndella Wegner’s journals. I thought you’d want to know about them.”

  “Journals? What journals? And how the hell did you get hold of them?”

  I indicated the binders spread across the table and stacked in the cartons on the floor, explaining how I’d come into possession of them. “If I hadn’t taken them, they’d be rotting in some landfill right now.”

  “We looked at those,” he said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. “They’re not journals, just directions for craft projects.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  He glared at me. I suppose telling a detective he’s wrong isn’t such a smart move. I quickly pushed on. “One of them is an accounts ledger for the bordello she owned.”

  “How the hell do you—”

  “And had you read through the others—”

  “There was nothing to read through, just directions—”

  “You would have found that Mrs. Wegner kept a diary of sorts hidden within the pages of those craft project directions.”

  The detective’s angry glare morphed into a wide-eyed, jaw-dropping gape. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Prove it.”

  Over the next hour I showed Detective Spader how I’d uncovered Lyndella’s background and figured out her relationship to Shirley Hallstead. His jaw dropped farther. “I’m assuming Shirley didn’t tell you she was Lyndella’s granddaughter, did she?”

  “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”

  He didn’t have to. The anger in his narrowed eyes, the clench of his jaw, and the bulging veins in his neck told me everything I needed to know.

  Or maybe he’d already figured out their blood relationship through other means not at my disposal. He may have been keeping the fact a closely guarded secret until he’d completed his investigation. Detective Spader’s anger might be over the fact that I’d stumbled upon the same information.

  I ignored his anger and pressed on. “I think that Lyndella wanted to keep detailed records of her clients but at the same time had to protect the privacy of those clients to sustain her business. She must have had a reputation for being very discreet for such an establishment to last as long as it had.”

  Detective Spader agreed. “If those records fell into the wrong hands, she’d wind up in all sorts of hot water.”

  “Both she and her clients, and not necessarily with law enforcement.”

  “Right. So you’re saying she developed a sort of code for her record keeping?”

  “Lyndella had a huge knowledge of art. Leonardo da Vinci kept notebooks filled with details that would have gotten him burned at the stake had anyone read them. However, because he wrote in code, no one could decipher those notes to determine what he had written.”

  “And you figured out Mrs. Wegner developed her own system of hiding information?”

  “Hiding in plain sight. Just like da Vinci. I only figured all of this out because I was fascinated with her detailed documentation of her handiwork. No one else would have bothered to read through those directions line for line.”

  When I’d finished explaining how I’d cross-referenced the ledger with the journals, I showed him the list of past and present politicians and judges I’d compiled. “I know it’s all circumstantial evidence, but I have what I think is a plausible theory as to who killed her.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  I filled him in, ending with, “The killer has to be some guy fairly new to Sunnyside. Either a resident or one of the staff. And he was hired by one of Lyndella’s former clients who couldn’t afford to have his past membership in The Savannah Club for Discerning Gentlemen exposed. That most likely makes him from Georgia, in his fifties or early sixties, and on the political fast track for national office.”

  Detective Spader chewed on my words as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “And you came up with all of this from bits and pieces she hid throughout those loose-leaf binders?”

  I nodded.

  “Very impressive, Mrs. Pollack.”

  I thought so, but opted not to agree with him. No one likes a wise ass. Besides, he and his department had totally overlooked valuable evidence. No sense rubbing it in. After the turn my life had taken over the past five months, I’d learned it’s best to have the cops on your side. Especially hometown cops.

  “I’m going to need to take all of these,” he said, making a sweeping wave of his arm to encompass all the binders.

  “Of course. I don’t suppose I could get them back at some point after they’re no longer needed?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Got a thing for X-rated art?”

  “No, detective, I’ve got a thing for expert craftsmanship. Lyndel
la was an artist. I might not care for her subject matter, but these are historical documents that would be prized by many museums. I only wish Shirley hadn’t destroyed all of Lyndella’s work.”

  “Destroyed? You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I brought home the journals the day Reggie delivered them to the art room, but after hauling all these cartons out to my car, I didn’t have room for the cartons of crafts. I left them in the art room, figuring I’d bring them home the next day. When I arrived at Sunnyside the next morning, I discovered someone had reduced all of Lyndella’s artwork to dust, shards, and confetti.”

  “Ms. Hallstead admitted destroying them?”

  “Not in so many words, but she didn’t deny it.”

  He made a notation in his notebook. “Anything else you’ve forgotten to tell me, Mrs. Pollack?”

  I thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so, but I have your card if I remember anything else.”

  He leveraged himself out of the dining room chair. “Then I’ll take these cartons and be on my way. Thank you for your help.”

  “You didn’t answer my question about the journals,” I reminded him.

  “If Ms. Hallstead is Mrs. Wegner’s only living relative, the binders belong to her.”

  “She’ll destroy them.”

  Detective Spader shrugged. “Her right.”

  I think he expected me to help haul the cartons out to his car. Instead I limited my assistance to opening and closing the front door to keep the cool air and the pets inside while he schlepped back and forth. If I couldn’t keep the binders, I saw no reason to waste any further muscle power on them.

  Once Detective Spader pulled away from the curb, I considered the rest of my evening. Now that I no longer had Lyndella’s journals to pore over, I should turn my attention to the job I got paid to do. Since I still had a carton full of Lyndella’s fabric yo-yos, I could assemble the Christmas ornaments for the November issue in very little time. Or I could scrub the bathrooms and kitchen. I opted for the yo-yos.

  _____

  Yo-yos can be used to make a variety of Christmas ornaments. Here are three quick and easy ones. For variety, make the basic tree, angel, and snowman ornaments, but use your imagination and various craft supplies you have on hand to decorate them as you desire.

  Note: Fabric glue or a glue gun can be used for all gluing except when attaching plastic beads and gemstones. Use the glue gun or jewelry glue to adhere those items.

  _________________________

  yo-yo tree ornament

  Materials

  basic yo-yo supplies to sew 6 green print and 1 brown print

  yo-yo made from a 4" circle template and 1 gold print yo-yo

  made from a 3" circle template

  6 red ½" buttons

  25mm flat-back gold star acrylic gemstone

  8" length of red ¼" wide satin or grosgrain ribbon

  glue gun or fabric glue and jewelry glue

  Directions

  Make the yo-yos following the Basic Yo-yo Directions (pp. 18–20). Stitch a button over the center of each of the green print yo-yos.

  Glue the star acrylic gemstone over the center hole of the gold yo-yo.

  To assemble the tree, all yo-yos will slightly overlap each other in each step. Glue three green yo-yos in a horizontal row with middle yo-yo on top. This is the bottom of the tree. Glue two green yo-yos together for middle row. Glue bottom row centered over middle row. Glue middle row centered over remaining green yo-yo. Glue bottom row centered over brown yo-yo. Glue gold yo-yo centered over top green yo-yo.

  Fold the ribbon in half. Glue cut ends to top back of tree for hanging loop.

  yo-yo angel ornament

  Materials

  basic yo-yo supplies to sew 1 print (color of choice) and 1

  white yo-yo made from 6" circle template

  1" two-hole wooden button, 2 black #8 glass beads

  1" flat-back heart acrylic gemstone in coordinating color

  8" length of ¼" wide satin or grosgrain ribbon in coordinating

  color

  glue gun or fabric glue and jewelry glue

  peach acrylic paint and brush (optional)

  Directions

  If desired, paint the wooden button. Allow to dry.

  Make the yo-yos following the Basic Yo-yo directions. To form the wings, sew a running stitch from the top of the white yo-yo to the center hole. Pull to gather. Tie off thread.

  Glue the heart acrylic gemstone over the center hole of the print yo-yo. This will be the body.

  Glue the wings to the back of the body so that the gathered section extends above the top of the body. Keeping the button holes horizontal, glue the button to the top of the body. Apply a small amount of glue inside the buttonholes. Set a bead in each buttonhole for eyes.

  Fold the ribbon in half. Glue cut ends to top back of angel for hanging loop.

  yo-yo snowman ornament

  Materials

  basic yo-yo supplies to sew 1 white yo-yo each made from 4",

  5", and 6" circle templates

  2 black pebble beads

  1 orange pony bead

  1 brown chenille stem

  3 15mm flat-back gold star acrylic gemstones

  8" length of ¼" wide satin or grosgrain ribbon

  glue gun or fabric glue and jewelry glue

  Directions

  Make the yo-yos following the Basic Yo-yo directions.

  Overlapping the yo-yos slightly, glue the 5" yo-yo to the top of the 6" yo-yo and the 4" yo-yo to the top of the 5" yo-yo.

  Glue the orange pony bead over the center hole of the top yo-yo for a nose. Glue the two black pebble beads above the nose for the eyes. Glue a star over the center holes of the remaining yo-yos and another evenly spaced between the first two stars.

  Cut a 5" length of chenille stem. Glue to back of center yo-yo so ends extend out on either side for arms. Cut two 1" pieces from remaining chenille stem section and twist onto each arm to form branches.

  Fold the ribbon in half. Glue cut ends to top back of snowman for hanging loop.

  By the time Mama and the boys arrived home, I’d completed the three Christmas yo-yo ornaments and typed up the directions. For once, I wouldn’t be rushing at the last minute to finish up models in time for my scheduled photography session. Given the lack of cooperation I experienced earlier today, I had a feeling I’d need all the extra time I could snag to devote to my article on the Sunnyside crafters.

  _________________________

  The next day I left work at noon to head to Sunnyside for the remainder of my scheduled interviews with the crafters. This time the traffic gods smiled down on me. If only the weather gods had been as accommodating, not to mention the interview gods.

  The air-conditioning unit in my rust-bucket Hyundai finally died on me a few miles east of Trimedia. No longer did the vents whisper an occasional breath of cool air. Now they blasted me with nothing but engine heat. I turned off the useless contraption and continually sipped water as I traveled to Sunnyside.

  The car had baked for hours sitting in Trimedia’s shade-free parking lot. With an outdoor temperature of a hundred and two degrees, the interior temperature had to be a hundred and twenty. At least. Touching the steering wheel burned my hands. In order to drive, I had had to wad up tissues, using them as insulation between my palms and the steering wheel.

  The blistering heat had one upside, though. Stepping on the scale this morning for the first time in two weeks, I discovered I’d shed five pounds, probably by sweating them off, but who’s complaining? That’s 10 percent of the fifty I’d tried to lose since forever. Only 90 percent to go. Maybe I should embrace the heat rather than complain about it.

  By the time I arrived in Westfield, pools of perspiration had collected in every nook and cranny of my bo
dy. Whatever the cost of repairing the air conditioning, I knew I couldn’t afford it. Until this heat wave ended (would it ever?), I’d have to travel with a spare set of clothes, washcloth, and towel in the car.

  A sniff of my armpits told me I needed to stop at home to jump in the shower and change my outfit first. Better to be a few minutes late for my interviews than arrive dripping with sweat and smelling like a cave woman.

  Luckily, Mama wasn’t entertaining the mystery man she planned to make my next stepfather. I found her eating a ham sandwich at the kitchen table.

  Without looking up from Vogue, she said, “How nice that you’re home so early, dear! How would you like to take me shopping? We can both buy new outfits for the barbecue this evening. Look.” She turned the magazine around to face me and pointed to the Lord & Taylor ad on the left-hand page. “Isn’t that the most adorable sundress? I think it would look very flattering on you.”

  The barbecue! I’d totally forgotten. Just how I wanted to spend my Friday evening, sweltering outdoors with a total stranger and her nearly total stranger husband. “I’m only home to shower and change, Mama.”

  That’s when she tore herself away from the pages of Vogue long enough to notice the limp rag that used to be her daughter. “Dear Lord, Anastasia! What on earth has happened to you?”

  “What happened to me?” I slumped down into the chair opposite her. “I’ll tell you what happened to me, Mama. Karl happened to me. And now I’m forced to drive a piece of shit with no air-conditioning, work two jobs, care for his semi-invalid mother, and deal with my own mother who’s so out of touch with reality that she thinks I can afford a four hundred and fifty dollar sundress to spend an evening with the half-brother of the man who screwed up my life!”

  “Well, if you don’t like the dress—”

  “Mama, did you listen to anything I just said?”

  “Of course I did, dear. And I totally agree with you. Karl screwed up your life, and it’s a damn shame you’re stuck with that commie curmudgeon. Which is why you need an evening out to forget about your troubles. Ira mentioned he has one of those fancy drink machines.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “A few frozen margaritas and you’ll feel like a new woman.”