Death Among the Doilies

by Mollie Cox Bryan

  As she turned the corner into the backyard and garden that was between the main house and the carriage house, Jane saw some weeds and bent down to pluck them out. When she stood back up, there was Ruby, with her hands on her hips.

  “Where were you last night?” Ruby demanded.

  “Here. I mean, I was home.” Why was Ruby questioning her as if she were guilty of something? She’d noticed Ruby regarding her oddly a few times today. It was unsettling—was Ruby suspicious of her? Or was Jane being paranoid?

  “Didn’t you hear all the commotion out front?” Ruby persisted.

  “No,” she said, with her heartbeat escalating. What was going on?

  “Well, it turned out to be nothing,” Ruby said. “But that Josh Waters was sneaking around the property. Brought over a box of doilies and put it on the front porch.”

  “What? Why would he do that?”

  “Good question. He said that Cora should have them. After all, she paid for them.”

  “Well,” Jane said, making a mental note that a nearby flower bed needed some attention, “I suppose he was trying to be nice.”

  “At midnight? Nobody is up to any good at that hour of the day.” Ruby scowled.

  “So what happened?”

  “Cora called the cops. They were here. Sirens. Lights, Everything. You didn’t hear a thing?”

  “No,” Jane said. Last night, she must have checked all the doors and windows five times before she went to sleep. She was such a sound sleeper that it had become a joke with her family, how she could sleep through anything. The only time she didn’t slept through noise was when London was a baby. “I didn’t hear anything, but that’s not unusual.”

  “Where’s Cora?” Ruby said.

  “I don’t know. Maybe she’s at the police station because of what happened last night.”

  “I doubt it. It was resolved pretty quickly. She’s not pressing charges. I think she felt sorry for the guy. He is kind of pitiful.”

  “Is he?” Jane asked, thinking about Cora’s suspicion about him killing Sarah.

  Ruby nodded. “I’ve always felt sorry for him. I didn’t know him or Sarah well, but he seemed like the clichéd browbeaten husband. Always looked tired, slumped over, followed her around like a puppy dog.”

  Jane bent down and plucked a few more weeds. “What about their daughter—the one who Cora ran into yesterday?”

  “Bad seed,” Ruby said. “Very bad seed.”

  Jane felt a chill travel up her spine and she shivered. Was it a premonition? Or was she just nervous because of the secret she was keeping?

  Chapter 22

  When Cora walked into the police station, she was pleased to spot Officer Glass from the incident the night before standing behind a desk where the receptionist was seated. He spotted her and smiled. Cora smiled back. The sweetest, most charming smile she could muster.

  “Can I help you?” the receptionist said.

  “Are you here about last night?” Officer Glass asked. He was familiar with both Cora and Kildare House by now. He’d been to the place twice during the past few days.

  “In a way, yes. I would like to talk with you, if that’s okay,” Cora said.

  “I have a few minutes. Come inside,” he said and opened the door.

  Cora walked down the hallway to a wide office filled with cubicles. Officer Glass led her into his cubicle. Plants and photos of his family donned his L-shaped desk.

  “What can I help you with?” he said.

  “Well, first I wanted to thank you for coming by the house last night,” she said. She handed him the basket of muffins.

  “Thank you. I’ll share it with the guys. Very kind of you,” he said and unfolded the towel on top of the muffins and took a whiff. An expression of pure pleasure came over his face.

  “I was wondering if you could recommend an alarm company,” Cora said. “I didn’t think we’d need it. I researched before we came here and the crime rate is so low. The police here do such a good job. But now I wonder if I might need one. Between the graffiti incident and last night, well, I’m kind of shaken,” she said, wondering if he’d believe her. She didn’t believe herself, even as she spoke the words.

  “Our crime rate is very low,” he said. “But I can recommend a few alarm companies.” He placed a muffin on a napkin on his desk, reached for a tablet, and started to scratch down a few names.

  “I was surprised yesterday when someone mentioned the Waters family had problems with drugs. I mean, here, in Indigo Gap? Drugs?” Cora said.

  He set his pencil down and squinted at her.

  “I guess drugs are everywhere,” she continued. “But it’s one of the reasons I left Pittsburgh. I was so tired of the junkies in my neighborhood.” Lies, lies, lies. There hadn’t been a single junkie in her neighborhood—at least none that she knew of.

  Officer Glass merely grunted in agreement.

  “Are there any places in town I should stay away from?” Cora asked.

  “No,” he replied. “It’s very safe in town.”

  “But yesterday I was nearly assaulted at the Waters house,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you call us?”

  “I handled it and left quickly.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “I went for the yard sale—remember, that’s why Josh brought me the box of doilies.”

  “Oh yes, right.”

  “But I smelled something odd. I thought it was coming from the opium kits and collectibles Sarah had. But now I don’t know.”

  His eyebrows hitched. Cora took that as an invitation to keep talking.

  “I’m sure if that family is involved in drugs, you all would know it, and that would be a part of your investigation into Sarah’s murder,” Cora said.

  “I’m not on that case so I couldn’t tell you. It’s an ongoing investigation so things are pretty hush-hush.”

  “I wish I knew. It would allow me to sleep better. I mean, I moved here, thinking I’d be safer, and . . .” She allowed her voice to rise a little and batted her eyes. Oh, she was making herself sick! Would he buy into this god-awful acting job of hers?

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll check into it a little bit and let you know, okay?” Officer Glass said in kind of a condescending voice.

  But he meant well. He was trying to help a community member feel safe. She knew that. So she smiled, yet again.

  “I’d so appreciate that,” she said. Her grandmother’s voice rang in her head: You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

  “Here’s the list of alarm companies we recommend,” he said and slid the paper across the desk.

  “Thanks so much, Officer Glass,” Cora said, extending her hand. “Thank you, I feel so much better knowing you’ll help me out a bit.”

  When he smiled back at her, Cora could’ve sworn he was checking her out—as in his eyes sparked with a leering quality. No. Could it be? Certainly not. She must be misreading the situation. She tried to shrug it off as she left.

  * * *

  As Cora walked through town back toward her house, she pulled out her phone from her crocheted handbag to check her messages. Dang. Five messages. Three were from the caterer. One was from Jane, and the other was from Ruby.

  She listened to Jane’s message first. “Where are you? I’m starting to worry about you. It’s opening day and where are you?”

  Opening day! Yes! Cora knew it was opening day, of course, but had to check a few things off her list before she could get to the rest of the day’s activities.

  The message from Ruby was typically to the point. “Good morning, sunshine. The caterers are trying to reach you.”

  Cora’s heart began to race. Three messages from the caterer and one from Ruby about them as well. What was going on?

  Cora didn’t bother listening to the rest of the messages; she just called the caterer directly.

  “Hi, Ms. Day, this is Cora Chevalier,” she said when Darla picked up the phone. “I didn’t listen
to your messages, but I saw that you left them. What’s going on?”

  “We’re going to substitute some of the cheese that you selected. I didn’t want it to be a surprise. One of our suppliers had some diseased cows or something and has just gotten busted,” Darla said.

  Busted was an odd word coming out of Darla Day’s mouth for some reason.

  Is this really why she had left three messages and it wasn’t even ten AM? Because of cheese? Cora thought.

  Cora loved her food, but she wondered if Darla was a bit off. Why make such a big deal about cheese?

  “Thanks so much,” Cora said. “Is there anything else?”

  “Would you like to select one of the other local cheeses before tonight?”

  “No,” Cora said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I trust you implicitly.” And don’t call me back unless there is an emergency, she wanted to say, but didn’t.

  “Well,” Darla said. “Thank you for that. Very good to know. We’ll see you around four?”

  “Yes, see you then,” Cora said.

  Okay, so she wasn’t experienced dealing with caterers, but that was making a mountain out of a mole hill. It was one more reason to get the kitchen into good shape so that she could do the cooking and baking herself.

  As she rounded the corner to the street where her house sat, Cora observed Jane talking with Edgar Thorncraft in the front yard. She backed up and hid behind a hedge. He was the last person she wanted to see.

  Suddenly, she was a bundle of nerves. Tonight was the night—the beginning of their craft-retreat business. And despite her hard work, she sensed her carefully laid plans might unravel.

  Chapter 23

  Cora, Jane, and Ruby spent the rest of the day checking in their guests and getting them situated. Two women, Martha and Diane, had driven up all the way from Florida. Miranda, with the pretty soft blue eyes, had come from Tennessee. Several of the other women had come from Ohio; they had a crafting group and traveled together to be a part of the retreat.

  Cora was basking in the warmth of these women. They were eager to try a new craft or two over the next few days, and so was Cora. She could hardly wait.

  She snapped a few photos of some of the preparations—the centerpieces, and baskets, plus the bouquet her uncle had sent. She intended to write up a blog post this afternoon. Keeping up with social media was a never-ending task. But she wanted her blog followers who couldn’t make it to the retreat to feel like they were in the loop.

  She dashed off to her apartment, and with Luna in her lap, she wrote a post.

  Then she lay down on her bed—just a quick wink would help to refresh her for the rest of the afternoon. She was a firm believer in power naps—necessary to the creative process.

  * * *

  Cora applied pink lipstick and took one last view at herself in the mirror. Not bad. Cora’s guests were all now here. The caterers were here. Everything was moving along like clockwork.

  She had changed into her beloved 1960s red-and-white minidress and vintage white boots. She slipped the Bakelite earrings on and grinned. “This is it,” she told herself, her green eyes blinking back at her.

  She glanced over her room and saw Luna curled up in the box of doilies. When she saw Cora giving her a look-see, she mewed. It was her hungry mew.

  “Okay, Luna,” Cora said. “Follow me into the kitchen.”

  Kitchen was not quite the right word for it. It was more of a kitchenette, with a fridge and a tiny stove, which she only used to boil water for her daily tea breaks. But it was efficient and Cora liked it—in fact, she liked her whole apartment. Her favorite part of it was the way the ceiling sloped and the interesting nooks and crannies throughout that were turrets and window seats. It was large, the biggest attic apartment Cora had ever seen. But the space was open—the living room, kitchen, and dining room were one huge space sectioned off by nothing more than furniture. Her bedroom and another room were separate rooms. She also had a huge oddly shaped storage room, which made her feel a little bit like Alice in Wonderland.

  Luna followed and watched as Cora prepared her food and sat the dish in front of her.

  “Your Majesty,” Cora said and smiled. Then she gave Luna a scratch on her calico head.

  She went back into her bedroom to grab a handmade shawl to wrap around her shoulders. October in North Carolina was not like October in Pennsylvania. Thank goddess for that. But there was still a chill. They had not turned the furnace on yet for the season, but a fire roared in the fireplace downstairs. The old house was drafty.

  As she reached for her shawl, she noticed that a few doilies had escaped the box. She picked one up and held it up to the light. It was beautiful, with elegant stitch work. Did Sarah herself make these?

  Cora was expected downstairs, of course, but she couldn’t help digging around a bit in the box. She marveled at the luscious, lacy doilies with tinges of pinks and purples.

  As she reached farther into the box, something solid, cool, and hard touched her fingers.

  She flipped the box upside down on her bed.

  There, nestled among the delicate doilies, was a small gun.

  A gun? What the heck?

  It was the smallest and most elegant gun Cora had ever seen. Jewel encrusted. Perhaps a lady’s pistol? What did Cora know? She was ignorant about guns, but this one was tiny and pretty. Still, she hated guns. Nothing good ever came of them. She made a mental note to remember to tell Ruby to get rid of her own gun as soon as possible.

  But what was a gun doing in this box?

  As she mulled it over, she started to wonder if Josh knew the gun was in the box. Or did he, in his haste, drop it in the box so the police didn’t see it? Which would mean that he was up to no good, as Ruby suggested. Cora felt a shiver. She pulled the wrap over her shoulders closer.

  Just what she needed. A gun in her bedroom at the start of her opening reception. She’d endeavor to sweep it out of her mind and be a good hostess. But later, she’d pay Josh Waters a visit to return the gun. But she promised herself that this time she wouldn’t go alone.

  She wrapped the gun in one of the doilies and placed it back in the flimsy box. Sarah Waters certainly collected some interesting things—this gun included, if indeed it had been hers.

  As Cora descended the stairs, she heard music and laughter from the party already starting on the main floor. She’d hired a local modern bluegrass trio to help celebrate. Strains of the banjo and guitar welcomed her. Her guests gathered in groups across the foyer and into the sitting room. The couch brimmed with women. The chairs were full, and people held plates of food and glasses of wine. Cora gave herself a moment to soak it in.

  “You know my date,” Ruby said as she came up beside Cora.

  “Your date?” Cora turned. It was Cashel, in blue jeans and a gorgeous sweater that Cora was certain someone (probably Ruby) had made for him. It was an unusual shade of green, which brought out the green flecks in his eyes. He looked good. He should wear jeans more often.

  “Oh, hi, Cashel,” Cora said. “How’s it going?”

  “I was wondering how your meeting with the police went today. Did you find out anything?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but I have feelers out.” Cora watched as one of the caterers carried a tray around to her guests. “Good to know you’re here, Cashel,” she said in a slightly quieter tone. “I have something in my bedroom I need to show you before the night is over.”

  He nearly choked on his drink as his face reddened.

  “Land sakes,” Ruby said. “Aren’t you brash? And right in front of his mother.”

  “No, no,” Cora said hurriedly, as she realized her poor choice of words. “That’s not what I mean. Not at all. I’m sorry.” She felt her face heat with a blush.

  “Cora.” Jane walked over to her. “There’s a group of women in the paper-crafting room with questions about tomorrow’s schedule. I couldn’t answer them.”

  “Excuse me,” Cora said. “We’ll talk later, Cashel.”
He gave her a crooked, impish grin.

  “What did I miss?” Jane said.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Cora said quickly. Leaving the others behind, Cora entered the paper-crafting room, where two women stood admiring the shelves of supplies.

  It was the two women from Florida—Martha and Diane.

  “Hi there,” Cora said.

  “I’m a big fan of your blog,” Martha said.

  “Thanks so much. What can I help you with?”

  “Well, we had a question about the schedule,” Diane said, pulling it out from her bag. “There seems to be a lot of time between the classes?”

  Cora nodded. “I’ll be speaking about this in a moment. Won’t you join me in the sitting room?”

  They followed her in, and Cora clinked a spoon to her glass to get everybody’s attention.

  “I’d like to thank you all for being here for the first retreat,” Cora said, as the crowd hushed and gathered around her. “This place is a dream come true for me. I wanted a place where people could gather and learn new crafts in a supportive, safe, and free environment. With no pressure. As many of you know, when I worked as a counselor at a women’s shelter, I realized how healing and how much fun crafting could be. To take classes or hang out working on what you want to do. So, as someone mentioned just now, there’s a lot of downtime in the schedule. It is, after all, a retreat. A time you’ve given yourself to think and reflect while crafting. I’m so happy you’re all here.”

  Cora’s eyes met Jane’s misty eyes.

  “This, ladies and gentlemen, is my best friend, and one of the best potters in the world, Jane Starr.”

  Jane waved.

  “She won’t be teaching classes this weekend, as we’re not quite ready for it, but if you have any questions about pottery, she’s your girl.”

  A smattering of polite applause erupted from the small crowd.

  “And of course, our guest teacher Jude Sawyer will be teaching a broom-making class first thing tomorrow morning.”

  More applause, a bit louder this time.

  Jude lifted his head and gave a little wave. He was flanked by two women, neither of them Ivy, Cora noted. He must have ducked her.