Assault and Beadery

by Mollie Cox Bryan

  “Yeah. There’s that little thing called ‘innocent until proven guilty,’” Jane said. Cora had been around the justice system as a social worker, but she didn’t have Jane’s experience. First as an abuse victim, then as a murder suspect. This business with Zee worried her.

  “Small-town justice?” Cora said.

  “Humph,” Jane said. Home. She wanted to go home to her own bed. That was all she wanted right now. Space and time just for herself. Which is just what they were hoping to give these women this weekend. She needed it herself. Healer, heal thyself.

  “Do you mind if I just head home?”

  “There’s no reason to stay,” Cora said. “The place is cleaned up. Most of the crafters have gone off to their rooms.”

  Jane left for home, leaving Cora sitting alone. She made her way down the path to her small, dark, and quiet carriage house. Home sweet home.

  The whole night to herself. What should she do first? Eat the rest of the chocolate cake? Catch up on laundry without a million interruptions? Run around completely naked?

  Of all the things she might have done, she gave in and went to bed.

  * * *

  Later, exhausted, but unable to sleep, Jane arose from her bed, thoughts of Zee rolling around in her mind. Was she able to sleep in jail? Even though the Indigo Gap jail was better than most, it was still a jail. No windows. Hard, squeaky cots.

  “Cashel said we really don’t know her.” Cora’s words rang through her mind.

  Why was she even a suspect? She was a small woman and as Jane thought about the mechanics of her stabbing Stan, who was a large guy, it didn’t make any sense. Jane surmised there was more to the story.

  Zee certainly could not have physically moved the body from the alley where the bloody trash bag sat all the way to the theater. Unless she had help.

  And the woman was so busy that day, what with it being opening night, that she couldn’t possibly have done it. The cops should know all this.

  Could one spiteful ex-husband with a best friend of a judge be the only reason for Zee’s arrest?

  That thought frightened her, perhaps more than anything else.

  The urge to place her hands in some clay overcame her. She made her way downstairs to her studio. Maybe she just needed to work some of this nervous energy off. Make a few cups or bowls. Something; anything.

  She scooped up some fresh clay, cool and smooth to the touch. She started to freestyle. Her hands shaped what they wanted, almost on their own. She rarely talked about this feeling of only being a conduit at times. Artists and writers understood, but many people would label her crazy.

  The creative process was a mystery. Who understood the impulse to create? The desire to perfect creation? To keep at it? Who understood the deep satisfaction of creating? No scientist had the appropriate language to explain it or study it.

  Her cell phone beeped. The caller ID said Cora. She disengaged herself from the clay, wiped her hands on the towel, and answered.

  “Yes, Cora,” she said.

  “I noticed that you’re awake. Your light’s on,” she said.

  “Yep,” Jane said. “It’s Zee. I can’t get her off my mind.”

  “I know. Me too,” Cora said, and yawned. “You’ll never believe what I found out about her.”

  “Oh God. Do I really want to know?” Jane said. This first year in Indigo Gap had been fraught with unexpected situations—like her being suspected of murdering the previous school librarian. Then the victim’s ex-husband was killed and then a few months later, there was the murder of a young man. After all these incidents, Jane wasn’t certain of anybody’s identity, except hers and her closest friends’.

  “You were right. She was a jazz musician. She toured and was quite famous in those circles. It’s not as if she was . . . I don’t know, Ella Fitzgerald, or something. But you get what I’m saying.”

  “Go on,” Jane said.

  “She left it all for this wealthy lumber guy. His name is Randall Mancini,” Cora continued. “So she came to Indigo Gap for love.”

  “How sweet,” Jane said with a flat note in her voice.

  “It doesn’t sound like her, does it? She seems much wiser to the ways of the world. Love does strange things to people.”

  “I’m living proof of that,” Jane said, just before they said good night. She hoped to get in a few hours of sleep. She wiped off her hands and headed back upstairs.

  Chapter 15

  Cora’s cell phone buzzed and awakened her. She lifted it to her ear and managed to say, “Hello.”

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” Adrian said. “I miss you.”

  Cora yawned before saying, “I miss you, too.”

  “Can I come over tonight?” Cora hated to dash his hopes.

  “You mean to stay? We’ve talked about this. As tempting as it is, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “I swear I’m going to burst if I don’t find myself in your bed soon,” he said, and laughed.

  “You’ll live,” Cora said. “It’s not easy for me, either.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s early,” she said. “I guess I should get up and get the day started.”

  Sunlight streamed in through the lacy patterns from her curtain, forming designs on her walls and ceiling.

  “How’s it going with all those moms in your midst?”

  “We’ve only had one breakdown so far. And she’s going to be fine,” Cora said, freeing herself from her quilt, then stroking a purring Luna.

  “How is the bead queen? Horrible? Pretentious?”

  “None of those things. Her class is first this morning. I can’t wait to see what she puts together for us.”

  “Did you hear that they canceled the show again last night?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said as she made her way to her kitchen, toward the coffee maker.

  “Is Zee in trouble?”

  “No. The police have to let her go today. They can’t keep her forever with the scant evidence they have.” Cora scooped coffee into the filter, slid it into place, then filled the pot with water, and poured it into the coffee maker.

  “That’s not what I heard,” he said.

  Cora’s heart skipped a few beats. “What did you hear?”

  “They found her standing over him, with the knife in her hand.”

  “What? I’m sure that’s not what happened. Who told you that?” People needed to get their facts straight before they started the rumor mill.

  “One of the teachers. Her husband is a cop. Said Zee was quite hysterical. A madwoman, she said. Probably an exaggeration.”

  Cora flicked on the coffee maker, a shard of anger and worry zooming through her. “Rumors, Adrian. We know Zee. She’s not capable of killing anybody, let alone a man who’s almost double her size. Honestly!”

  “Stranger things have happened,” he said after a moment.

  True enough. And strange things had happened to Adrian. He spoke from experience.

  “Yes, I know,” she said. “But c’mon . . . Zee is innocent.”

  “Cora?”

  “Yes?”

  “Promise me you’ll stay out of this,” he said.

  “Out of what?” she said, flipping her nightshirt over her head, readying for her shower.

  “The murder investigation.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I’ve no reason to get involved. Don’t worry. I’m sure Zee will be home today, and all the charges will be dropped.”

  “Besides, you have a retreat going on,” he said.

  “Yes, I do. I have a houseful,” she said. “Speaking of which, I need to get going.”

  “Me too,” he said. “I miss every little piece of you.”

  “Soon, love.”

  * * *

  After her shower and two cups of coffee, Cora made her way downstairs. A few guests milled about. There was a good hour before Lena’s class started, but she and Roni were already in the craft room. Roni had become a sort of unpaid assistant. Or maybe a quick friend.r />
  “Good morning, ladies,” Cora said as she walked into the kitchen and spotted Annie and Vera at the table, each with a huge mug of coffee and a plate of food, mostly leftover tropical fruit from yesterday’s luau.

  Luau! Cora still couldn’t believe the mix-up.

  They each muttered a hello.

  “What’s wrong?” Cora asked.

  “One of my boys is sick,” Annie said. “Never fails!”

  “I’m sure your husband will take good care of him,” Cora said, grabbing a plate from the cupboard.

  “Absolutely,” Vera said. “But kids want their moms when they are sick.”

  “Don’t let mother-guilt get to you,” said Ruby from behind Cora.

  “I didn’t see you there,” Cora said.

  “Good morning to you, too,” Ruby said, then turned back to Annie and Vera. “Your husband and son will have to deal with parts of life without you. It’s best they get used to it now. I know it’s hard. Believe me. But it’s for the best. Now, is there any pineapple left? God, that pineapple was so good.”

  “Yes, there’s plenty,” Cora said, gesturing to the platterful of slices.

  Cora sat down next to her guests.

  “Looking forward to the class?”

  Annie shrugged. Vera smiled politely. “Yes,” she said. “Lena said we’d be starting simple, with prayer beads.”

  “Prayer beads?” Ruby guffawed. “I’ll call mine meditation beads. Thank you very much.”

  Annie perked up. “I like that idea,” she said. “I’ve been learning to meditate.”

  “I meditate every day,” Ruby said. “Been doing it for years. I don’t know how I ever survived without it.”

  “Meditation is just another form of prayer,” Cora said.

  Ruby nodded in agreement.

  A group of crafters came into the kitchen and placed their used dishes in the sink. Some of them filled up on more coffee; then they started making their way to the craft room.

  “I guess it’s time,” Vera said.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Lena said as they all shuffled into the craft room. Morning was the best time to be in this room. Light filled it and made crafting easy. “Welcome to my class on prayer beads. Some people call them rosary beads. Others call them meditation beads. It doesn’t matter what you call them. They all serve the same purpose. Holding something in your hands, the same thing, every day while praying or meditating, serves as a touchstone and focal point. Every culture, worldwide, has some form of prayer bead.”

  “I had no idea!” Vera said.

  Annie tucked her dark curls behind her ears and fidgeted with the items in her basket.

  “In your basket, you have a plastic bag labeled PRAYER BEADS, and it has everything you need, except the charms.” She sat a few containers on the table. “You choose your charms. They will serve as a sort of theme for your beads. We have sea charms that represent water, flower charms to represent nature, and so on. Choose whichever you are drawn to.”

  Vicki reached her hand in the closest container and sifted through the charms. She pulled out a tree charm.

  “Now, I selected chakra beads to be in your packets. Each color corresponds to a chakra. Does everybody know what that is?” Lena asked.

  “New Age mumbo-jumbo,” Jo said.

  “Wrong. Some New Agers have taken it over and marketed it. In reality, it’s based on Hindu and Buddhist belief. The chakras are vast, yet confined, pools of energy in our bodies governing our psychological qualities. They say there’s seven main chakras in all; four in our upper body, in charge of our mental properties, and three in the lower body, representing our instinctual properties. Each chakra has its own color.”

  “Well, I like that idea,” Jane said.

  “This isn’t a class on chakras and Eastern mysticism. If you’re interested, please feel free to research more about this later. This exercise will show you some basic beading techniques, and you’ll have it down in no time,” she said. “Later, Cora is going to lead you through a paper beading class. I’m looking forward to that one myself.”

  “Don’t forget the rose bead–making class,” Ruby said.

  Cora noted Jane was quiet and brooding. Cora toyed with the idea of telling her what Adrian had said this morning—but then thought better of it.

  Chapter 16

  The crafting room was one of Cora’s favorite rooms in the house. Hardwood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and plenty of elbow room for crafting. When filled with women crafting, chatting, laughing, telling stories, it felt like a sacred space.

  “I can’t get the damned knot where I want it to be,” Vera said. “I figured I’d make a mess of this!”

  “Calm down,” Annie said. “It’s not a life-and-death matter. Just keep trying.”

  “Look at yours already. It’s not fair. You have those long and lovely fingers. It makes it easier for you.”

  Annie held up her meditation beads. The beads were cobalt blue with tiny gold beads between them. A string of smaller beads hung from them, colors of the rainbow.

  “Some people find this easy, others have to practice, but don’t worry, Vera. Keep going,” Lena said. “What you’ve already done is fine. Perhaps you are too caught up in it being perfect.”

  Annie laughed. “She has your number.”

  “Perfectionism is the enemy of creativity,” Lena said.

  Jane and Cora had considered getting that very phrase painted onto a wall somewhere in Kildare House.

  The room quieted for a few minutes as the women were stringing their beads.

  “I wonder what happens to your chakra when you die,” Roni said.

  The room went silent with discomfort.

  “Who knows what happens to anything when you die?” Ruby said, after a few beats. “Except your heart stops and you stop breathing.”

  “No. What I mean is, it’s energy, right? Colored energy. Does it stop? Does it fade away? Or what?”

  It was an odd question. Kind of deep for a craft retreat. A chill crept along Cora’s spine.

  “Honey, you’re asking the wrong people,” Vera spoke up. “Find you a guru or something.”

  After everyone stopped laughing, Lena cleared her throat. “I have no idea about any of that. You should ask someone who would know. I’m sorry. But if you have any beading questions, I’m your gal,” she said, and smiled.

  “I have a question,” Vicki spoke up. “Do you use the same kind of knot to anchor your charm at the end? It doesn’t seem like you would.”

  “Not exactly,” Lena said. “At the end of your string, you’ll place another kind of bead. This one,” she said, holding up a small bead with a hook on it. “You’ll hook your charm to it.”

  As the crafters were chatting, Cora received a text message from Lulu:

  Hey, Cora. I’m so sorry. I know you’re busy. Can you call me when you get a chance?

  Sure, Cora texted back immediately, concerned about Zee. “l’ll be back,” she whispered to Jane, and exited the room.

  Cora pressed the call back button.

  “Cora?” Lulu said.

  “Yes, is everything okay?”

  “No. I’m a mess.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re delaying things with Zora. I don’t understand. Maybe you can make some sense of it.”

  “What? How can they continue to delay?”

  “Her lawyer said they have substantial evidence against her.”

  “How can that be? I’m certain she didn’t kill Stan,” Cora said.

  “She didn’t,” Lulu said. “I think someone is framing her.”

  Cora’s breath nearly stopped. “Why? Why would someone do that to her?”

  Lulu sighed into the phone. “When you get a chance, come and talk to me in person. I can’t discuss this on the phone.”

  So Cashel was right. Zee did have a past.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Cora said. “Now, don’t worry. She’s got the best lawyer i
n town.”

  “So I hear,” Lulu said flatly. “But she’s still in jail.”

  Cora’s stomach fluttered. She needed to call Cashel. If Stan was stabbed in the alley and moved to the theater that should immediately let Zee off the hook. She was a tiny woman of a certain age, and even though she was healthy, there was no way she could have killed him and moved him. Not alone anyway. So there had to be more to this story than they all realized.

  “I hear you. Let me see what I can find out,” Cora said before thinking. How could she poke around when she had this retreat to run? Her paper beading class was scheduled to start in two hours. “I’ll give Cashel a call. I’m leading a paper beading class in a couple of hours. After that, maybe I’ll stop by. How does that sound?”

  “Good. Please let me know what you find out. I’m a fish out of water here. I don’t know anybody but you and your crew,” she said. “I feel so alone. This B and B is quite empty, and I’ve polished and shined everything. I’m losing my mind.”

  “Why don’t you come to my class?” Cora said. “It will get your mind off of everything.”

  “Paper beads?” she said. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, think about it. I hope we see you. If not, I’ll stop by. Okay?” Cora said.

  Vicki was leaving the craft room and heading for the bathroom. She glanced up at Cora and smiled.

  Annie came out of the room and headed for the kitchen with her coffee mug in hand.

  “We’d love to have you, Lulu,” Cora said.

  “I honestly don’t know if I can sit still beading while my sister is in jail, with who knows what’s happening to her,” Lulu said bitterly.

  “I understand,” Cora said. “You know the Indigo Gap jail is not as bad as all that. She’ll be fine. I’m sure she’d not want you stewing over this.”

  “Yes, I assume Indigo Gap’s jail isn’t bad. But it’s still jail.”

  Chapter 17

  Jane couldn’t help but wonder who texted Cora. She hoped it was Zee telling her she was home. She tied another knot to hold her bead in place.

  “This house is gorgeous,” Lisa said. “I could live here.”