Had any of them?
Cora caught Jane’s eye and lifted an eyebrow as if to ask her a question. Jane continued rolling her clay.
Sometimes Jane believed Cora read her mind because she understood her so well. How to bring up Indigo Gap to find out if anybody had a history here?
“Cora, I’ve been thinking. Is this the one-year anniversary of us being open?” Jane asked.
“Just about,” Cora said.
“I’m surprised how partial to Indigo Gap I’ve become,” Jane said.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Ruby said, looking up from rolling her clay.
Jane chuckled. “Sorry, Ruby. Nothing personal. I thought we would like it here. And I can’t speak for Cora, but I love it here. It feels like home.”
“I agree. I love the place,” Cora said.
“It’s the first time either of us has been here,” Annie said. “It’s lovely. I love the way it seems to be scooped right out of a mountainside.”
“I love all the quaint shops and all of the blue-named things,” Vera said. “So charming.”
Vicki rolled the clay between her hands. “Eh,” she said. “A little too charming for me.”
“Have you ever been here before?” Jane asked.
“Never,” Vicki said, and Lisa shook her head.
Did that leave Vicki out of being suspected of killing Stan? People lied all the time, didn’t they?
“I was here a long time ago,” Roni said.
Hair pricked on the back of Jane’s neck. She remembered that Roni had come to the retreat early.
Jane and Cora both leaned forward.
“How long ago?” Jane asked.
“A few years back,” Roni said. “We lived in Cherokee for a few years,” she said.
So she did have a history here. And she came to the retreat early. She would have to become the number one suspect from the retreat. It was hard to fathom this tiny woman stabbing Stan. Still, stranger things had happened. Smaller women often had a surprising strength—like Cora, who was waiflike but could kick butt when needed.
“Once you have your clay logs fashioned, you have a few more choices to make,” Lena said.
“More choices,” Lisa said.
“It’s nice to have some options,” Judy said. “I miss that in my life. The more kids I had it seemed, the less choice I had. The less say I had in anything.”
“Oh, I hear ya,” Roni said. “You think motherhood is empowering—before you have kids. Then their schedules, their likes, and dislikes, well, it takes over everything. You find yourself pushed aside.”
“Yes,” Vera said. “But I love being a mom. Maybe it’s because, well, I didn’t think I’d have any kids. I don’t mind the sacrifices. Most of the time,” she said, and grinned.
“Funny thing is I’m not sure kids realize how much you’ve sacrificed until they become parents themselves,” Ruby said with a thoughtful tone. “I keep waiting for my son to find a woman and give me some grandkids. How hard can it be? He’s good-looking, he’s a lawyer, and he’s a good guy.”
“He’ll find his way,” Jane said.
“Hell, send him my way!” Vicki said. “I’d ditch my husband for a lawyer any day!” She laughed, and the other women joined her.
“You don’t mean that!” Lisa said.
“No, not really. It’s just so much fun to think about,” Vicki answered.
“I hear ya,” Lisa said. Many of the crafters nodded in agreement.
Ruby frowned, even as the others laughed and giggled. She was usually funny and lighthearted. But, apparently, she didn’t find her son being single funny at all.
“I’m sure Cashel will find the right person, in due time,” Jane said with a soothing voice.
Now Ruby cackled. “I just hope it’s before I’m dead.”
Chapter 27
Cora hoped she left enough downtime for this retreat. After the polymer clay class, the retreaters dwindled off to their corners in the living room. A couple returned to their knitting—of course. Lisa was crocheting something pink and fuzzy. Annie and Vicki both had their noses behind books. Cora noted that Annie was reading Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen and Vicki was reading Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn, which was a dark and disturbing novel about a woman faking her death.
Cora left those two in the living room and walked into the paper arts room, where Vera sat. “How’s it going?” Cora said to her as she walked in.
“Fine,” Vera said. “This room is heavenly.”
She gestured to the shelves stacked with every kind of paper, a variety of colors. Shelves with embellishments, like buttons, stickers, fancy borders, and charms. Other shelves held cutting systems, scissors, and rulers.
“Thanks,” Cora said, sitting down next to Vera.
She held up a card. “I’m working on this card for my mom.”
“Is Bea okay?” Cora asked.
Vera nodded. “She’s fine now. She twisted her ankle a few weeks back. Gave me quite a scare!”
“Uncle Jon is taking good care of her, I’m sure,” Cora said.
“Well, he sure does try, but Mama is independent. So stubborn,” Vera said. “That scares me. She is eighty-six years old and needs to learn to let go of some of that. We’ve been fussing at each other more than usual. I thought I’d just write her a little note and place it on a card.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” Cora said.
“I’ve been making a lot of cards recently,” Vera said. “It’s so similar to scrapbooking. Except scrapbooking is about yourself, your family. And cards are about the other person. I enjoy it because it’s quick and I love giving handmade cards to people.”
“Jane has been making artist trading cards,” Cora said. “Do you know what they are?”
“Yes, but who has the time for all that? I’d give it a go just for myself. Just to do something a bit different,” Vera said. “Hey, I’ve meant to ask you about your friend in jail.”
Cora’s heart skipped a few beats.
“How is she?” Vera’s soft, lilting Virginia accent soothed Cora.
“She’s not handling things well, I’m afraid,” Cora said. “I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of how to help her. I guess it’s best left up to the police.”
Vera’s mouth twisted. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never found that to be the case. At least not in Cumberland Creek.”
Beatrice had mentioned there had been a few murders in Cumberland Creek.
“Annie was a freelance reporter, you know, and so she covered all of these murder cases. We sometimes all got involved in trying to figure things out. She’s superb at it. Sleuthing.”
“Interesting.”
“You should talk with her. We found the justice system to move so slowly. And when you have a friend in jail, it seems like forever—especially if they’re innocent,” she said, gluing a paper daisy onto the folded cardstock. “My mama’s favorite flower is a daisy. She’s going to be tickled about this.” She beamed.
Cora made a mental note. If things worsened, if it turned out that the killer really was in this house, she would grab Annie and ask her advice. She mentally checked off Annie and Vera a long time ago, since she had a family connection with Vera and due to the timing of their arrival. Even though they were technically related, she realized she didn’t know much about Vera at all—except that she appeared to be quite curious about murder, which was a bit disturbing.
Cora hoped there was some other logical explanation for the bloody scarf. That it was not Stan’s blood. Which would mean all her guests were innocent.
“Of all the flowers in the world, my brilliant quantum physicist mother likes daisies the best,” Vera said, and smiled. “I guess that means something.”
“You’re so lucky to have her,” Cora blurted.
Vera’s head tilted, and she leaned forward.
“My mom died when I was young. I barely remember her,” Cora said. “I was raised by my grandparents.”
“Jon’s brother?”
“Yes. They were wonderful. Don’t get me wrong. But they were not my parents, you know?” She paused, remembering. “I sometimes watched other kids with their parents. They looked so young. I always wondered if my mom and dad had survived the accident if they would have played ball with me or horsed around with me. You know?”
An echo of her father’s laughter. The scent of her mother’s perfume. A gentle sweeping of fingers across her forehead. Was she truly remembering these things? Were they real? Or were they dreams?
Cora’s memories surfaced at the oddest times. The way she was always slightly embarrassed that she didn’t have young, vibrant parents, like all the other kids. Except for Jane. Jane was in a similar situation.
Jane. What would I do without her?
She picked up some cardstock—blue as a jay’s wing—and decided to make a card for Jane. To let her know how much she loved her.
She and Vera settled into the room, surrounded by paper and embellishments. Each with their card project—Vera’s for her mother, Cora’s for Jane.
Cora inhaled the scent, a mixture of paper and glue and a subtle lemon scent from the floor polish. It was going to be okay, she told herself, even as she watched her cell phone for any notice from Brodsky. He said he’d put a rush on it. She doubted they’d know anything before tomorrow. She just needed to relax and concentrate on the card.
“So who do you think killed Stan?” Vera said.
“Sorry, what?”
“Who do you think killed him?” Vera said.
“I have no idea,” Cora said after a moment.
“Well, don’t you think if we can figure it out we can get your friend out of jail sooner?” Her eyes were bright, and her brows were arched.
“Don’t tell her that,” a voice said from the doorway.
They both turned to find Jane standing there.
“You have no idea what she’s capable of,” Jane said. “Let’s leave the sleuthing to the pros, shall we?”
Chapter 28
As the evening came on, several of the crafters broke off for dinner. Some mentioned they were going to the play with Ruby. Jane and Cora stayed behind and ate leftovers from the luau.
Jane regarded the kitchen. She sat down with her glass of wine. “When are we going to have the money to do something about this kitchen?”
“Soon, I think,” Cora said. “Remember, the first year most businesses don’t turn a profit. We barely did. We are squeaking by. Thank goodness for our investors.”
“Let’s drink to them!” Jane held up her glass, and they toasted. The clink of the glasses echoed in the nearly empty house.
“I’m just hoping there’s not a killer in this house,” Cora said.
“About that.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh no. Jane, I’ve told you about that. No thinking allowed.”
“Ha. Ha,” Jane said, and bit into a piece of pineapple.
Cora sipped her wine. She was feeling comfortable. Cozy in the chair, sitting at the kitchen table.
“So, logically speaking, we can say that most of the crafters could not be the killer.”
“What do you mean?”
“They didn’t arrive until after the murder, right?”
Cora considered it. “The only two who were here were Lena and Roni. Before we put too much stock in that ... the others could have been here, just not checked into Kildare House.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“But still. If everybody did check in when they arrived, and they are all from out of town, you’re right. The only two would be Lena and Roni.”
“Hard to imagine either one of them getting the best of Stan,” Jane said. “Although I will say he was large, but seemed to be a bit soft. So maybe he was more easily overcome than we think.”
“He was stabbed, so they didn’t really have to overpower him. Whoever did it could have just surprised him and moved lightning fast,” Cora said.
“Ah! The element of surprise,” Jane said.
“Lena is a bead pro. I don’t think she’s ever been here before. So how would she know Stan?”
“Had Stan ever left the area? They could have met elsewhere.”
“No, not really. Not for an extended period. He was educated here and had never lived anywhere else. I read his obit.”
“So, what about Roni? What’s her background?”
“She lived in Cherokee for a while, but now she lives in Fairfax, Virginia.”
“Cherokee is not far,” Jane said. “Maybe she’s our killer.”
Cora grimaced. It was difficult to imagine. And maybe there was something they didn’t know. Someone at the retreat who had a history with Stan. Someone else. Roni seemed like such a lovely person. She’d taken to Ruby and Lena right away.
“What about Vera? I know you’ve dismissed her as a suspect, but I think she’s odd. Plus, she hates community theater. A dancer who hates the theater?” Jane said.
“Vera didn’t come alone,” Cora said. “Annie was with her. Are you suggesting she and Annie killed Stan together?”
Jane winced. “No, I don’t suppose that would happen.”
“Maybe the killer is not here,” Cora said. “Maybe the killer just came in and disposed of the scarf?”
“That’s a scary thought,” Jane said. “And why would they even do that?”
“Take your pick. It’s all scary,” Cora said, fumbling around with her fork to stab the last piece of pineapple on her plate.
Just then her phone sounded.
“Hi, Adrian,” she said after checking the caller ID.
“Hey, sexy,” he said. “I miss you. When is this damned retreat going to be over?”
Jane caught her eye and grinned. She loved that Cora and Adrian were getting along so well.
“You know when it’s going to end. Now, stop,” Cora said.
“Why can’t I come by tonight? Just sort of slip in and slip out before your crafters are up in the morning?”
Cora’s face heated, as a warm rush traveled through the rest of her. Would they be able to get away with that? Would he be able to sneak in and out?
“It’s tempting . . .” she said.
Jane’s head tilted in interest.
“I could come by right now,” he said. “And then I’d leave early in the morning.”
She preferred not to have any men at her retreats. During her first retreat, a male broom maker was her guest teacher. He more than just made passes at a few of her retreaters, which made for a great deal of drama.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like men. Hell, she loved Adrian. It was just that the energy always shifted when there was a man around. And she didn’t want her retreaters to be distracted. Especially not this group of moms, who were so used to not focusing on themselves. She wanted to give them space and time. No kids. No men. She sighed a deep, long, and sorrowful sound.
“Uh-oh, I know what that means,” Adrian said. “Okay. Back to Plan A. I’ll see you Sunday night.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Me too, but I get it. You’re a smart cookie. And you’re an excellent hostess. A hostess with the mostest. And I love you. Good night.”
“Love you, too. Good night,” she said.
Cora sat her phone on the table.
“Don’t tell me. He wanted to come over, and you said no,” Jane said.
“It was tempting,” Cora said. “With this group in particular. . . I don’t want them to be distracted by Adrian or any other man, for that matter.”
“And if the tests on the scarf reveal that the blood is indeed Stan’s, there’s going to be a big distraction.”
“Unfortunately,” Cora said.
Someone was entering the front door and making their way toward the kitchen. It was Annie and Vera.
“Hello, ladies, how was dinner?” Jane asked.
“Good,” Annie replied. “I love the Blue Dawg
. Such character!”
“Fun place and good food,” Vera agreed.
“Now,” Annie said. “Vera tells me your friend is still in jail?”
Cora nodded.
“Annie can help,” Vera said. “She still has access to databases and computer stuff.”
“True, but I’m not sure how much I can do. I can dig around if you want. Do a background check on the victim and your friend?”
“Why would you need to do one on Zee?” Cora asked.
“Just to see if there may be something in her past that is giving the police pause.”
“Then, we work to disprove that,” Vera said, and hiccupped. “Excuse me. Too much beer!”
Cora noted the use of we. Jane was right. Vera liked this sleuthing business. Annie was more reserved than Vera.
“I don’t like butting my nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Annie said. “Still, a little investigating can’t hurt.”
“No, I suppose it can’t,” Cora said, her sullen mood lifting. This was a craft retreat. They had done a good bit of crafting. There was nothing wrong with doing another kind of crafting, as long as it didn’t get too out of hand.
Chapter 29
“Zora Steele,” Annie said. “Steele is her maiden name. Mancini is her married name.” The blue light of Annie’s laptop shined on her face. They were all in the guest room Annie and Vera were sharing. Doubling up on the rooms was cheaper for the crafters and less work for Cora.
Annie scrolled down a list of items and Cora looked over her shoulder: marriage, divorce, birth certificate, bio. Annie clicked on bio. The four of them read over it in astonishment.
Zee had not one but two Grammy Awards! She won “Best Female Jazz Vocalist” in 1968 and then again in 1970.
“Did you know that?” Annie asked.
“No, did you, Jane?”
“Nope.”
“Well, we learned something, then,” Vera said. “But is it relevant?”
“Probably not,” Annie said. “Obviously, she’s put the professional music world behind her.”
“To me, that’s curious,” Vera said. “I mean why work that hard to be a professional musician, even getting awards, then walk away?”
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