“Come in. Don’t mind Cora. She’s a little upset. Well, we both are,” she said, leading him toward the couch.
Cora sat in a nearby chair and would not look at Jane, now. And Jane knew if she looked in Cora’s direction, it would be over. No eye contact. Sometimes they acted just like they had in high school. Which is what happened when you grew up too fast. In some ways, you never got over it.
Chapter 10
“Damage control is different than providing a good defense for you,” Cashel said, after they settled in. “I’m no expert in public relations. I’m a lawyer. Believe me, you have no case against the paper. I have asked the judge for a gag order though. We’ll see how that flies. The paper, of course, has first-amendment rights to protect it. Even with the gag order, it can print information about the case, just not interviews and follow-up and so on.”
“I haven’t heard from the media—have you, Jane?” Cora asked.
“No.”
“My advice is if they call, don’t speak to them,” Cashel said.
“Unless . . .” Jane said. Her eyes narrowed.
“Do not speak with them,” Cashel said again with sternness in his voice.
“What if we give our side of the story?” Cora asked.
“We have no side of the story. I didn’t do it. Period,” Jane said.
“That’s right,” Cashel responded, with an approving glance. “And frankly, that should be your attitude in all things. Go about your business, as if this never happened.”
“How can we do that when almost everybody who signed up for classes just asked for refunds?” Cora said. Go about their business? What kind of advice was that?
“Look,” Cashel said. “You’re going to take a hit. You’ve already taken a hit. But if you keep face, it will all turn out in the end because Jane is innocent.”
He was talking about doing nothing. And doing nothing didn’t sit well with Cora. Doing nothing was not something she could manage. She never had been able to.
“Unless we somehow can prove Jane is innocent,” Cora said.
Jane and Cashel eyed her, both incredulous.
“That’s what we’re doing here,” the lawyer said.
“Yes, but it’s going to take the police way too long. What if we found proof that Jane had nothing to do with the murder on our own?” Cora said.
“What do you mean?” Jane said, her voice rising. “How could we prove that?”
“Maybe there’s something the police are overlooking,” Cora said.
“I suggest you drop that idea,” Cashel said. “Leave the police work to the professionals.”
Silence filled the room as Cora considered her options. Perhaps Cashel didn’t need to be informed about everything.
“What can you tell us about Sarah Waters?” Jane asked.
“I can only tell you what is on the public record. Which is that she was killed in her home on the night of August 23.”
“How was she killed?” Cora asked.
“Look, I know where you’re going with this and I have to warn you the local police won’t take too kindly to you poking your nose in this case,” he said. Suddenly, his good looks seemed to fade. He looked pinched and inflexible, two attributes Cora found unattractive.
“Very well, I’ll go to the court and ask for the record myself, if you won’t answer me,” Cora said.
Jane was picking some imaginary lint off her jeans.
“She was strangled and then her fingers were cut off and strewn about the house,” Cashel said. “It was a bloody mess. With bloody fingerprints everywhere.”
Cora felt a wave of nausea and gaped at Jane, whose eyes were wide with fear.
“And people think I did that?” Jane said.
“Who knows what people think?” Cashel said. “They want answers. They want justice. Sarah was well loved. You are new in town. Part of your prints might have turned up there. That’s all people know. They are jumping to conclusions. But if you take my advice and lay low, go about your business as if nothing happened, it will be fine.”
Easy for him to say.
Cashel gathered his papers, then his briefcase, cueing them that their time together was almost finished.
“I need to know where you were that day. You haven’t gotten back to me about it,” he said to Cora.
“Oh yes, that’s easy. I was babysitting London,” she said. “We went to the movies and then came home and made brownies.”
His face fell. “You were with London that night?”
She nodded.
He glanced at Jane. His jaw muscles clenched. “Jane, please stop by my office later today.”
“Okay,” she said, attempting a smile.
A bolt of fear pinged through Cora as she watched him leave. Why did he glower at Jane like that? Had she lied to him? Why would she do that?
“Jane, what’s going on?” Cora turned toward her friend once Cashel had closed the front door behind him.
But Jane’s face was in her hands and her shoulders were shaking.
Cora rushed to her side. “Shhh,” she said, placing her arm around her. “It’s going be all right. One way or the other. We’re going to be fine.”
After Jane calmed down and gained her composure, she began to talk. “I didn’t mean to lie. I mixed up the dates. I told him I was here with London. I forgot about that Friday night when I was out of town. I’m sure he thinks I’m lying.”
“Calm down,” Cora said. “Just tell him what you told me and it will be fine.” But Cora wasn’t so sure. This was weighing on Jane, as it would anybody. But Jane’s hefty baggage made it worse.
“Tell him where you were and he will corroborate it and voilà,” Cora said.
But when Jane looked back up at her, there was something in her eyes—something that made Cora shiver. What was going on with Jane?
“You’re right. I’m just being silly and I’m starting to panic.”
“I get that,” Cora said. “But we’ve got to keep our cool about this.”
Jane glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It’s almost time to pick up London from school. Can I ask you to get her for me?”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to face all of those people.”
“You’ll need to face them eventually.”
“I know. Just not today.”
Chapter 11
On the drive to the school, Cora thought about Jane and Sarah and how she was going to prove Jane’s innocence.
She knew her way around the court system, unfortunately, from years of working as a counselor for battered women. But only to a point, and most importantly, she had no idea how to go about investigating a murder.
The first thing she planned was to find out more about Sarah. That seemed to be the place to start. She intended to Google her when she returned home from picking up London.
Cora parked the car and walked into the school, the same way she had the day before. This time, the woman behind the counter stiffened when she spotted her, and two other women came up behind her. No welcoming smiles met her. They stood like cardigan-wearing soldiers, flanking either side of the receptionist.
“Hi,” Cora began, “I’m—”
“I know who you are,” the receptionist said. A clipped tone and an icy eye sweep let Cora know exactly what the woman thought of her. “I’ll get London for you.”
“It such a pretty day outside,” Cora said, nervously trying to make small talk.
Silence.
A few moments later, London came traipsing into the office.
“Hey,” she said. “Is Mom at the police station again?”
Did she really just say that?
“No, sweetie,” Cora said, drawing in smooth and steady breaths. “She’s a bit tired today so I decided to help her out.”
The room felt like it was closing in on her, so she grabbed London’s hand and walked toward the door. She needed to get away from there; away from the prying eyes. Jane was right. Cora had thought m
aybe she was exaggerating. But Jane was definitely right.
She tried not to show her anger or embarrassment to London. She inhaled air deeply before she slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car.
Her hands gripped the steering wheel all the way home.
London hummed her own tune in the backseat. Cora thanked the gods that the child wasn’t in one of her questioning moods.
When they arrived at the carriage house, they were greeted by a note from Jane pinned to the door:
I need some time away. Be back soon.
She needed time away? For what?
“Where’s Mommy?” London asked.
“She wanted a little time to herself,” Cora said, after a minute. Trying to calm herself, she was reminded of how typical this was of Jane. The fight-or-flight response was developed by years of abuse. But to leave Cora to deal with this pressure alone? Anger thrummed through her body.
“When will she be back?” London said, crossing her arms.
Cora fished around in her bag for the carriage-house keys. She didn’t want to alert London that anything was amiss, but at the same time, she wanted to drive her fist through something, anything.
“I don’t know, sweetie,” she said, her voice an octave higher than usual. “She didn’t say. But you and me . . . we’ll have a good time. How about pizza tonight?”
It was the only thing she could think of to cheer the girl up, plus Cora didn’t have time to cook. She had a blog post to write and a few more phone calls to return.
She finally found the key and slipped it into the door. It opened to the downstairs studio, which was full of Jane’s pottery, stacked on shelves, on tables, and on the floor. At this moment, Cora’s hands itched to throw one of Jane’s goddess-shaped cups across the room.
In the meantime, London’s hand reached for hers, and the child looked up at her with questioning eyes. Cora’s rage began to slip away.
“Let’s go upstairs and get your pj’s and whatever else you think you’ll need tonight,” Cora said.
“Are we having a sleepover?” London asked.
“I don’t know. Best to be prepared.”
London stopped in her tracks, her face crumpling. “I want my mommy!” she wailed.
Sometimes Cora forgot that such a bright and mature child was still just a child.
Cora scooped her up into her arms, with her heart turning to mush.
“C’mon, we’re going to have a blast, right? And who knows? Your mom might be back tonight.” She kept her voice light and breezy.
“Okay,” London said, calming down and rubbing her eyes. “I’ll get my Princess Anna pj’s and my favorite books.”
“Don’t forget your toothbrush.”
As London scampered about the tidy apartment, Cora peeked in the closet where Jane kept her suitcase—still there. Reassurance swept through her. Jane must be planning to come back. Perhaps she just needed a few hours to collect herself, away from her daughter. Cora hoped Jane just needed a little time. She trusted Jane wouldn’t buckle under the pressure.
Cora had known Jane a long time. She knew that deep down Jane was strong. But sometimes Jane didn’t realize her own strength, and her first inclination was always to run away.
But the retreat started in two days. Surely Jane realized the stress Cora was under and would be back soon. Cora choked back her fear and anger. Jane was being accused of murder—which had to be terrifying—but running away never solved anything. Jane should know that by now.
“I’m ready.” London interrupted Cora’s thoughts. She had a little suitcase in one hand and a few books in the other.
Cora couldn’t help but smile. It reminded her of the first time she had met Jane. Jane had just moved into her neighborhood in Pittsburgh and decided she didn’t like it there and ran away. Cora happened upon her, with her suitcase and books, behind the garage between their families’ properties.
That garage between the properties became a haven for both Cora and Jane as they grew up, dated, had spats with their parents and grandparents, studied for tests, and practiced the latest dance moves.
On the day they met, Cora didn’t know Jane was running away. She only knew she had found a friend.
“What are you smiling about?” London asked her.
“I’m thinking about how you remind me of your mommy. And about how much fun we’re going to have,” Cora said.
London reached for Cora’s hand once more. “Do you have more of those cookies?”
Chapter 12
Later, after London was sound asleep, a rapping came at Cora’s apartment door. Fully expecting Jane, she opened it without asking who was there. She was surprised and disappointed by the person who stood before her—Ruby.
“Cashel has been looking for Jane. He says it’s important. I went over to her place and she’s gone. What’s going on?” Ruby asked. “Besides all that, I’ve been hearing rumors and they are doozies. I need to talk to you.”
Rumors? Jane was right. The news was spreading through the little town quickly.
“Please calm down,” Cora said to Ruby—and to herself in her head, yet again. “Come in. London is in the guest room sleeping.”
Most of the attic apartment was an open floor plan, except for the bedrooms. Tonight, she was glad London was tucked away in one of them.
“So, it’s true, then,” Ruby said, following Cora into the kitchen, then sitting at the kitchen table.
“Can I get you something? Tea? Juice?” Cora said.
“No, thanks,” Ruby said with a flat tone. She clearly just wanted Cora to get on with it.
Cora put the kettle on, anyway. She might need a little herbal tea to help her get to sleep tonight—and to handle Ruby’s interrogation. Ruby was difficult to figure out. At first, Cora didn’t think they could work together, but as she got to know her, she realized she was just brutally honest and impatient. Even now she was sitting at the table, tapping her fingers, watching Cora. Waiting for answers.
“So where is Jane?” Ruby asked, more forcefully.
“She went for a drive.”
“A drive?” she said, with her eyebrows drawn-in. “The day before the guests start to arrive? She takes a drive? Honestly!”
“She’s just upset because of this fingerprint business,” Cora said, sitting down in the chair across from Ruby.
“When will she be back?”
Cora blinked and glanced at the clock. Her fingers found the edges of a placemat and picked at a frayed thread.
“You don’t know,” Ruby said.
Cora didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t lie to Ruby. After all, she had a vested interest in the craft retreat as well.
Cora sighed. “She will be back for her daughter, if for nothing else. I’m sure.” She would, wouldn’t she? But she’d not heard from Jane, and it was getting late. Could it be Jane was more fragile and more damaged than what Cora knew? Was Jane just not going to be able to handle this situation?
“It’s so hard for single mothers. I know that. If it wasn’t for the previous owners of this place taking me in, I don’t know what would’ve happened to Cashel and I when his father died. But I never ran away.”
“Jane just needs a little time to think.” She said it with more conviction than she felt. In truth, she was more worried about Jane, at this point, than the retreat. Possibly it was all too much for Jane. Maybe she was cracking.
“They say she tried to kill her husband,” Ruby said. “Is that true?”
There it was. The very thing Jane didn’t want people to know about her. She’d worked so hard at starting over, yet it just kept following her around like a bad penny.
“Ruby—”
“Please do me the honor of telling me the truth. You wouldn’t believe the wild rumors. I can’t fight back if I don’t know what the heck is going on,” Ruby said.
Cora hesitated—she felt this was Jane’s business and hated spreading around her personal history. But then again, Ruby ha
d a point. She was a part of their new life, of their business, and she was vital to its success.
“Jane did shoot her ex-husband. It was in self-defense, after many years of her husband . . . hurting her, she took matters into her own hands,” Cora said. “She didn’t kill him. But she perhaps would have if she wasn’t such a lousy shot. He was trying to kill her. Make no mistake about that.”
Ruby grimaced. “Poor girl,” she said. Her voice softened, revealing what Cora had known all along: Ruby was a big softy beneath her gruff exterior. “What a terrible thing to live with.” She blinked slowly as if remembering or thinking deeply.
“So you can see why the incident with the fingerprints and Sarah’s murder and all that is freaking her out a bit,” Cora said.
“I can see that, but running away?” Ruby said, sitting back against her chair now.
“I’m not sure that she’s run away. I think she’ll be back tonight or tomorrow. I think she just needs some alone time,” Cora said. Was she trying to convince Ruby, or herself, as well?
The tea kettle whistled. Cora made her way over to the counter. “Are you certain you don’t want some tea?”
“On second thought, I will have a spot of tea. That looks like quality stuff,” Ruby said. “I love chamomile.”
After they had made their tea, they sat back down at the table with their steaming cups.
“You have more faith in Jane than I do,” Ruby said, after stirring some honey into her tea. “I just keep thinking about what we will do if she doesn’t come back.”
Cora didn’t want to think about that. Her best friend would not leave her in the lurch this weekend—would she? She took a sip of her tea, ignoring the queasiness coming over her, and inhaled the mist of the chamomile tea.
“You know, my mother just took off once, sorting herself out about something. I never did know why. She was gone a few weeks. I stayed with my granny. Oh, I loved staying with her, way back in the hollows. She knew her herbs,” said Ruby.
“Is that where you learned it all?” Cora seized the opportunity to change the subject.
Death Among the Doilies Page 5
