Assault and Beadery

by Mollie Cox Bryan

  “Oh!” Cora said. “You two are from Cumberland Creek! Then you must be . . .”

  “Annie,” the other woman said. She was long and lean with big dark eyes that seemed as if they were taking everything in. “Sheila really wanted to participate. She sends her love.”

  “I know,” Cora said. “She’d have been perfect for this weekend. I hope her daughter is feeling better.”

  “It’s up and down,” Vera said, and grimaced.

  “Good drinks,” Annie said, holding up her coconut cup.

  For some reason, Cora found herself wanting to tell Annie and Vera everything. The two of them exuded such warmth. This isn’t what I planned, she wanted to tell them. It seemed as if they were enjoying themselves so she decided to keep her mouth shut.

  “Drink up,” another woman said. “A weekend without the kids!”

  Annie smiled at Vera, who nervously looked away.

  “Hi,” the third woman said. “I’m Jo.” She was built like a football player, but her face was soft and feminine, almost pretty.

  She shook hands with the other women.

  “I’m so excited to do some beading,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like this in my life.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Cora said, and smiled. “Excuse me, ladies.”

  She spied Cashel with Ruby and Lena and wanted to suss him out about Zee. She’d been keeping an eye out for him, but must have missed his entrance. Was Zee home? Was she okay?

  She tried to make her way over to him.

  “Cora Chevalier! I love your blog!” A short round woman came up to her.

  “Thanks so much,” Cora said.

  “I’m Judy,” she said. “I hope I can get some pointers from you. I’m thinking about starting one myself.”

  “Certainly,” Annie said. “What’s your craft?”

  “I’m a silversmith, but I’ve recently gotten interested in beading and maybe incorporating beads into some of my jewelry designs.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Cora said.

  Judy beamed. “Have you had the guava cupcakes?” She pointed at the mini-cupcakes on Cora’s plate.

  “Not yet,” Cora said.

  “Divine,” Judy said in a hushed tone.

  Eventually, after chatting a bit more about the food, Cora moved along and found herself standing next to Cashel, Ruby’s son, and everybody’s favorite local lawyer.

  “Cora,” he said. “You look wonderful, as usual. Where’s Adrian?”

  “Thank you and he’s working,” she said. “Inventory.”

  Cashel raised an eyebrow.

  “I know, right?” she said, and grinned. “Who would have thought?”

  “Maybe he’s got a girl somewhere,” Ruby said, then shoved a mini-tart in her mouth. Her eyebrows raised with delight at the taste.

  “He does. Me,” Cora said, and gestured to herself.

  “You know what I mean,” Ruby muttered.

  “Mom, you know how crazy he is about her,” Cashel said. “Stop teasing her.”

  “Humph. I’m going to get another tart,” she said, and wandered toward the food.

  “So, Cashel, how is Zee?” Cora asked anxiously.

  His face fell. “Not good. She’s a nervous wreck.”

  “Is she home?”

  He shook his head. “No. I think they will release her tomorrow, in light of the new evidence.”

  “What new evidence?”

  “Cora, are you taking on another case?” he said with a mocking tone.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Zee is a friend. I know she didn’t kill Stan and I hate to see her accused of such a thing.”

  “How do you know? What do you really know about her?” he asked, and took a sip of his punch.

  Cora thought a moment. “All I know is who she is now. She’s been so kind to me. It’s hard to imagine her as anything but kind. Funny. Hospitable. Interesting. I enjoy her company. Both she and Lulu are riots.”

  “True enough.”

  “So, what can you tell me?” Cora said. She’d learned that Cashel was a man who didn’t gossip. He was serious about his business as a lawyer. He clammed up when he was working on someone’s case.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know that Zee is going to be okay,” she said.

  “I can’t promise you that,” he said. “Things happen.”

  “Okay, now you’re scaring me and pissing me off,” she said. “There can’t be much evidence against her. Why are they keeping her?”

  “Sure there’s evidence against her,” he said. “Mostly circumstantial. The judge is taking his good old time with setting bail.” He used air quotes around setting bail.

  Cora’s heart sped. “What do you mean? Is he a friend of Stan’s?”

  “No, the judge is one of the worst, most cantankerous old coots I’ve ever known.”

  She tried not to stand there with her mouth hanging open. Cashel was never this vocal about people.

  “Close your mouth, Cora,” he said. “Besides the judge, there’s the wealthy ex-husband, who is a friend of the judge,” he said while his blue eyes glimmered.

  As she let that news seep into her, anger poked at her. “You mean the judge is keeping her in jail because she divorced his best friend? That’s preposterous!”

  “I doubt that,” he said. “Calm down. This is Indigo Gap, a very small town. Everybody knows everybody. Even though this judge is the worst one I’ve run across, he does have to uphold the law.”

  Chapter 12

  Cora tried to focus on the reception—the guests, who were an impressive group of women who happened to be mothers; the food, which was not what she had ordered, but delicious nonetheless; and the lovely, exotic Hawaiian music. Even with all the other things to keep her mind occupied, Cora’s thoughts kept turning to Zee, stuck in jail perhaps because of a personal vendetta. Well, they couldn’t keep her there much longer. Not legally. They’d have to charge her or let her go by tomorrow.

  Who was this judge anyway? Maybe Cora should pay him a visit and take him some of her famous blueberry muffins. That thought rolled around in her mind for a few minutes.

  “There you are!” Ruby said. She was trailed by a couple of women, one of whom was holding one of Cora’s placemats in her hands.

  “I love your placemats,” she said. “I’m Vicki, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Cora said, noting that Vicki seemed a bit nervous. “A weekend away from your children. How are you doing so far?”

  Vicki was a tall, busty woman, with gorgeous pale skin and a healthy glow. “New mom,” she said. “My baby is almost a year old. I didn’t want to leave her, but my mother and husband insisted.”

  “She’s a bit of a nervous wreck,” the woman next to her said. “I’m Lisa.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” Cora said.

  “How did you make these?” Vicki said. “I know we’re supposed to be here for beading, but I love these.”

  “You don’t just have to bead while you’re here,” Cora said. “Our retreat is set up so you can do the crafts we teach or whatever else we have available. We have a fiber arts room and a paper arts room. Follow me and I’ll show you.”

  Ruby took off in the other direction, waving her fingers as she went by, a gesture to let them know she was moving on.

  Cora flicked on the lights in the fiber arts room.

  “Wow,” Lisa said. “This is unbelievable. Look at all the felt!”

  “We have no idea what we’re doing,” Vicki said, and grinned. “We’re not real crafters, but we thought this retreat would be fun.”

  “I see,” Cora said. “Well, you don’t need any special skills to make that placemat. In fact, you don’t even need a loom.”

  “What? How?” Vicki said, while Lisa was oohing and aahing over the yarn, which was lined up in bins along the wall.

  “All you need is a piece of cardboard or wood and some string,” Cora said. She opened a desk
drawer. “Here’s my homemade loom.”

  She held up the sturdy oblong-shaped piece of wood. “You can also use an old frame and pound the nails into it. If you use cardboard, you cut the edges and use those slats, instead of nails, to string your jute.”

  “Oh, I see,” Vicki said.

  “I used old denim and other old fabric that I had.”

  “She repurposes and upcycles everything,” Lisa said, while still elbow deep in the yarn. “I read about her online.”

  “I know. I do follow her blog,” Vicki said. “So how small do you cut the fabric?”

  “About half-inch strips, but they don’t have to be precise.”

  “So, once you string the jute onto your nails, you start weaving the fabric in between the jute threads.”

  “Yes,” Cora said.

  “They’re so tightly woven. I’m not sure my fingers could manage.”

  “It takes practice, but I use a crochet hook,” Cora said.

  “I might try this while I’m here so if I have any questions you’ll be here,” Vicki said.

  “Sounds good to me. You could take the beading classes and work in here at night,” Cora replied. “We have a basket of scrap fabric over there and you can just help yourself.”

  “That’s so generous of you,” Lisa said, joining them. “You have some amazing yarn.”

  “Thanks,” Cora said, beaming. A friend of hers worked at a national craft store and tried to nab samples for her from time to time. In return, Cora always purchased her yarn from her.

  A beeping alarm on her phone alerted Lisa. She lifted the phone from her pocket and clicked on it. “Oh,” she said. “We need to go. Vicki and I bought tickets to see Fiddler on the Roof tonight. We love community theater.”

  Cora’s heart nearly dropped to her feet. Sweat pricked at her forehead.

  “It’s a great show,” she said.

  “We read about the director,” Vicki said. “Did you know him?”

  Cora nodded, her stomach rolling in waves. “Yes, I did.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Vicki said. “I hope they nail whoever killed the man.”

  “Me too,” Cora said. She desperately wanted to change the subject. Needed to change the subject.

  “Oh, I hear they already have someone in custody,” Lisa said. “A woman. Do you believe that?”

  “I do,” Vicki said. “Women can kill just as well as any man. You know my theory.”

  “Theory?” Cora prompted.

  “My theory is there are more women murderers out there than what we know. They’re just too smart to get caught,” Vicki said.

  Even though that could be true, Cora didn’t want to think about it. She ushered them out of the room. “The party awaits, ladies.”

  She drew in a breath, vowing to keep the party chatter away from the topic of murder.

  Chapter 13

  Cora ambled through the party, welcoming guests, smiling, sipping from her coconut shell. She turned the corner from the living room into the craft room and noticed Vera on her cell phone as Annie stood nearby.

  “This is the first time she’s been away from her daughter,” Annie said. “It was tough getting her to leave.”

  “How old is her daughter?” Cora asked.

  “Elizabeth is five,” Annie said. “I remember the first time I was away without my boys. It was hard. Now they are older and I appreciate the time away.”

  “Oh?”

  “Not that I don’t miss them. Don’t misunderstand,” Annie said. “It’s just that when I’m home, I end up doing everything for them. When I’m gone, they learn to stand on their own two feet—even if it’s just for a few days.”

  “What was I thinking?” Vera said, interrupting their conversation. She had a soft, lilting Virginia accent. Annie did not. “How could I leave my baby?” Tears formed in her eyes.

  Uh-oh.

  “Vera,” Annie said with a soothing tone. “She’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  “I know she will be,” Vera said. “It’s me!” She clutched her chest. “I miss her, Annie. It’s like an enormous gaping hole in my center.”

  Annie encircled her in her arms.

  “Why don’t you both come into the kitchen with me?” Cora said. “Let’s get Vera some water.”

  Several people warned Cora that maybe this retreat was not as good an idea as it sounded. Moms needed breaks, right? In any case, some moms found it tough to be away from their children. Evidently, Vera was one of them. Heavens, her daughter was five years old and she’d never been away from her?

  Annie and Vera sat at the kitchen table and Cora fetched them both some water.

  “I’m so sorry,” Vera said after she drank a few sips. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Cora crouched down to Vera. “It’s okay,” she said. “This is a safe place. You can cry here.” She smiled. “Or laugh, or do anything you want.”

  Annie drew in a breath. “We’re hoping to make some lovely jewelry this weekend.”

  Vera chortled. “If I can stop from missing my girl long enough to do anything worthwhile!”

  “It’s perfectly reasonable for you to miss her,” Cora said, standing back up again.

  “Do you have any children?” Vera asked, as one of the caterers buzzed by them.

  “No,” Cora said. “Jane does, though. She has a remarkable little girl. London. I’m sure she’ll be around here this weekend.”

  Tonight, Cora knew London was staying at a friend’s house. But where was Jane? She hadn’t seen her in a while.

  Vera took another drink of water. “Whew,” she said. “I think that punch delivered a wallop. That is some potent brew.”

  Annie laughed. “It’s stronger than wine, that’s for sure. Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she replied.

  “Cora, excuse me.” One of the servers came up to her. “Would you care to keep these leftovers?”

  It wasn’t what she’d ordered, but it would be suitable for the women to munch on throughout the day tomorrow. “Sure,” she said.

  “The office called and they are only charging you half of the agreed-upon fee. With apologies,” the server said.

  “That was kind of them,” Cora said, thinking it was the least they could do. At this point, there was no use in making a fuss. The food was delicious, just not what she had ordered. Her guests were none the wiser, and that’s what counted.

  The welcome reception dwindled. Several of the guests had made plans to attend the play.

  “Where is everybody?” Vera said as they reentered the living room.

  “Remember, a lot of them went to the play,” Annie said.

  “Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t catch me dead at a local theater production.”

  Annie laughed. “I know.”

  “Really?” Cora said. “Why?”

  “She was a professional dancer for a few years and now has her own studio,” Annie said. “She’s a bit of a snob.”

  “Annie!” Vera poked her.

  Vera was stately in her posture and demeanor. “That’s not it at all,” she said. “I find local theater types a bit too self-important. All that wannabe angst. So much of the time it comes across in mean ways. I don’t like to support it.”

  “You know what? Jane and I have had similar observations. A friend corralled us into designing and painting sets for the play. I said never again. Just not my thing.”

  “Sorry to interrupt your conversation.” Lena had appeared in their circle. “The play has been canceled again.”

  “What?” Cora said.

  “Well, not only was the director murdered yesterday, but it seems that the musical director is suspected of his murder and the band can’t function without her,” she said flatly.

  “Murder?” Vera gasped. “I had no idea.”

  “Wouldn’t you just know it?” Annie said wryly after a few beats of silence.

  Turns out that the old saying “the show must go on” was not
always the case.

  Chapter 14

  “Jane?” Cora said, as she stepped out of the house. “Are you okay?”

  She had slipped out the back for a bit of fresh air. She fought the impulse to go home to her empty carriage house. With London gone, she’d have the place to herself, which was a rare luxury.

  “Yes,” Jane said. “I just wanted a bit of air.”

  Cora sat down next to her on the porch glider. “It’s a bit chilly out tonight.”

  “Yes, but the sky is so beautiful,” Jane said. “All the stars are out. There’s the Big Dipper.”

  “Almost everybody is back from the play,” Cora said, after a few moments of taking in the starry sky. “It was canceled again tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Evidently, the show can’t go on without Zee,” she said.

  At the mention of Zee’s name, a stabbing sensation moved through Jane. Being accused of murder was traumatic, especially when you didn’t do it. It was a walking nightmare. The situation triggered dark emotions in Jane.

  “I’m not surprised,” Jane said. “I don’t think anybody else has the experience she has.”

  “I’ve never been certain exactly what her experience was,” Cora said. “Do you know?”

  “She was a professional musician,” Jane said. “She did many things, from what I understand. Mostly jazz.”

  “Why did she end up here?” Cora asked.

  “I have no idea,” Jane said. “Why?”

  “Something Cashel said ... It’s probably nothing.”

  “What?”

  “Just that we really don’t know her,” Cora said. “Which is true, but I can’t help but like her.”

  “What do we know about anybody, really, except what they choose to reveal?” Jane said with one eyebrow lifted. “I don’t understand why they haven’t let her out yet.”

  “Well, that’s another thing Cashel told me. It seems the judge is her ex-husband’s best friend,” Cora said. “A vengeful ex-husband at that.”

  “You’re friggin’ kidding me,” Jane said. The situation was going from bad to worse.

  “Unless there’s stronger evidence against her, he’ll have to let her go tomorrow.”