Assault and Beadery

by Mollie Cox Bryan

  “You were a professional dancer and walked away,” Annie said after a few moments.

  “Yes, but dance is different. As a dancer, you’ve got limited stage time. That’s not so with musicians. And I was so in love ... it just wasn’t working out in my life. Being married to someone who worked different hours than me, it was hard on the relationship.”

  “Maybe something similar happened with Zee. She married and moved here,” Cora pointed out. “She married a wealthy, influential man, who may be complicating the situation.”

  Annie scrolled through several more lists as the others were talking. “I don’t see anything else noteworthy.”

  Cora stifled a yawn. It was getting late. “Let’s research Stanley Herald and then call it a night.”

  “Agreed,” Annie said, with her long fingers moving over the keys.

  She could talk and type. At the same time. Impressive.

  Jane and Cora were the only two in the room aware of the scarf. After all, Annie and Vera were guests, and they had decided not to alarm them until they knew for sure there was a reason.

  “Stanley is a bit more complicated. Degree from UNC. Owns a dry-cleaning business.”

  Jane nodded. “Yes, that’s our guy. Has a master’s in the theater and earns a good living.”

  “Okay,” Annie said. “He’s also been divorced ... twice. No kids.”

  “He doesn’t have a criminal record,” Annie went on.

  “Doesn’t mean he was a good guy. Just means he never got caught at anything,” Cora said.

  “You really didn’t care for him,” Jane said.

  “No, I guess I didn’t,” Cora said. It was hard for her to admit she didn’t like someone. Intellectually, she believed everybody deserved a chance. She didn’t like Stan almost from the first. He had an overblown self-importance thing going on.

  “He wasn’t my favorite person either, but he volunteered countless hours at that theater. You could view it as a service to the community. He was an expert giving his time,” Jane said.

  “But what he was doing was backhanded. On the one hand, yes, he gave plenty of time to the theater. On the other hand, the only people who got parts were his friends and people who gave money to the theater.”

  “That seems to be the case with these small-town theaters,” Vera said, waving her hand. “I never get involved. Some of my dance students have.”

  “Well, they do need money, and responsible people that they know are going to show up,” Jane said.

  The women looked at her.

  “I’m just playing devil’s advocate,” she said.

  “You make a good point,” Annie said. “I’m getting a sense of his character from you two. A big fish in a little pond. Maybe he was a narcissist. Guys such as him think they can get away with anything. Affairs. Drugs. Maybe there was more to him than what you know. I’ve seen this character type in my work time and time again.”

  “Me too,” Cora muttered. “Only I used to see them sitting across a table in a domestic courtroom, usually after years of abusing their wives.”

  “Or cheating on them,” Vera said, her full lips forming a line as her jaw clenched.

  Best to leave that story for another time, Cora decided.

  * * *

  Jane made her way from Kildare House to her place through the backyard. The night was chilly, and the moon almost full and so bright that it lit her path. She opened the door to her carriage house. She took one walk around the studio before heading upstairs to bed.

  Tomorrow, first thing, she’d be teaching a clay beading class. She and Ruby had put their heads together to mix it up a bit. They planned to use herbs and clay.

  The buckets of clay were already lined up nicely on the long tables. The bins of herbs and dried blossoms sat next to them. The rest of the tools they’d need were already in their kits. Her teaching studio was coming along nicely. In the back of it was a corner that was her studio—where she created her pottery. This life was good.

  She walked up the stairs and opened the door to her apartment, quiet and empty without London. A pang of missing her girl tore through her. It was too late to call her. They had texted earlier in the evening. London was having the time of her life, and she was well tended. Jane told herself to focus on the positive, not on the dark, crushing sensation of loneliness without her daughter.

  Her cell phone blared.

  “Hey,” she said. It was Cora.

  “I forgot to ask if you are all set for the morning. Do you need help?”

  “I’m all set,” Jane said, as she plopped onto her couch.

  “How about that Annie and Vera?”

  “Very helpful.” Jane yawned.

  “I have the names of Stan’s ex-wives, and I’m going to look them up tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “It might help to clear Zee.”

  “Yes, but you and I both know that the police are working on this. Brodsky is testing the scarf. I’m betting it’s Stan’s blood.”

  “Then you think his killer is here? In Kildare House?”

  “I don’t know if the killer is in the house or if they just got rid of the scarf somehow. I’ve got a feeling that scarf is going to be a turning point in the case.”

  “I hope he’s able to place a real rush on it.”

  “Well, this is an ongoing murder investigation. I’m betting they will work around the clock.”

  Cora exhaled into the phone. “You’re probably right. I just can’t imagine that any of these women had anything to do with it.”

  “Not even Roni? She was here early.”

  “I can’t imagine,” Cora said. “People certainly do surprise me all the time.”

  “Even after all these years?” Jane said, laughing. “You amaze me, Cora. You’re so optimistic, yet you’ve seen and dealt with some of the worst people.”

  “Yes, but also some of the best,” she said after a few beats.

  That was such a typical Cora statement, Jane mused.

  “Hey, have you heard back from your artist trading card friend?” Cora said.

  “Not yet. I’m expecting a card any day. This is so much fun,” Jane said, knowing Cora was poking around for more information. She and Ellis had been exchanging cards for a while. His designs were great, and they were having fun getting to know each other through the mail.

  “I was telling a few of our guests about the whole artist trading card thing you’ve got going on,” Cora said. “They may ask you about it.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Jane said, glancing at her coffee table where earlier she’d lined up all of his cards. “Maybe I’ll bring them to class tomorrow.”

  “Hey, that’s a great idea,” Cora said.

  “Good night, Cora,” Jane said.

  “Catch you in the morning,” she replied.

  Jane contemplated what they had learned about both Zee and Stan. Couldn’t the police see that she didn’t have any motive to kill him?

  Or did she? The thought zoomed through her mind. Was Zora one of the many women he’d had affairs with? Why would she involve herself with the local theater? She had won Grammys. Did she get involved because of him? Were they having an affair?

  Jane laughed. “I must be getting goofy from being so tired.”

  She heaved herself off the couch and prepared for bed.

  Morning came too quickly, along with a phone call from London.

  “Good morning, Mama!”

  Jane struggled to open her eyes. “Good morning, London. What’s the plan for today?”

  “We’re getting ice cream.”

  “This early in the morning?”

  “No, silly. After dinner.” London giggled. “Are you still sleeping, Mommy?”

  “Yes, but I need to get up. I’m teaching the first class.”

  “We’re going to ride horses,” she said.

  Jane sat up and untangled herself from her duvet. “That sounds like fun.”

  “Horses are so pretty,” Lon
don said.

  “Be careful, okay? Follow the instructions.” The thought of London riding a horse filled her with a mix of emotions, torn between being thrilled her daughter was experiencing a new thing and being scared to death. Horses were gorgeous, but they were also dangerous. She’d been called overprotective, but she would never apologize for that.

  “I will, Mama,” London said. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Jane said.

  After they hung up the phone, Jane readied herself for the day—but only after she had a good cry, missing her daughter.

  Chapter 30

  Cora grabbed her vest, crocheted with a granny-square pattern, slipped her arms into it, and took one last view of herself in the mirror. She loved the way the vest draped over her olive-green minidress. The brown leggings helped to update this outfit. She adored her vintage clothes, and it had been more than a few years since she’d purchased any new clothes from stores—except underwear and leggings.

  Luna had already found her sunny spot in the window seat and purred as Cora stroked her soft fur. “I’ll be back later, kitty.”

  She exited her apartment and padded downstairs. The scent of coffee and fresh multigrain blueberry muffins welcomed her. Ruby had developed this recipe and loved rising early, making it, and then watching folks ooh and ahh over them as they ate them.

  “I can’t believe there’s no sugar in these!” Lisa said as Cora walked into the kitchen. “You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

  Ruby smiled. “Good morning, Cora.”

  “Hey,” Cora said, reaching into the cupboard for a mug. “The muffins smell divine.”

  “Yes, they do,” Ruby said. “Sleep well?”

  “Not too bad,” Cora said. Given that there might be a killer amongst them, the fact that she was up and down most of the night, instead of outright awake, was progress. She was sleepy and needed more coffee to get through the day, but she updated her blog in the wee hours and looked up Roni online—to no avail.

  Just because Roni was the only attendee who Cora realized was here didn’t mean she was indeed the only one here. And it couldn’t be that easy to figure out whom the bloody scarf belonged to, could it?

  She fixed a plate with a muffin and some fresh fruit, grabbed her coffee, and headed to the living room, where a few guests already gathered. She glanced around and didn’t see Annie and Vera. Cora realized they’d had a late night.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Cora said as she walked into the room, spotting an empty chair and sitting her coffee on the Moroccan-tiled mosaic table next to it. She found a crocheted coaster and repositioned the coffee.

  “Good morning,” the guests replied.

  “I just can’t believe how easy those bead projects were yesterday,” Vicki said. “I mean, if I only had the time at home, you know?”

  “I hear ya,” Jo said. “I can’t imagine the mess there’d be at my house if I tried to bead when my kids were little. The kids would love getting their grubby little hands in the beads. I’d be finding beads for years to come!”

  Several of the crafters laughed.

  Cora bit into her muffin, relishing the flavor. Ruby had outdone herself. Who would have thought blueberry muffins could be so delicious and yet so healthy?

  Lena and her new sidekick, Roni, entered the room. Those two had become fast friends. Curious, since they were the first two to arrive. Cora could not suspect Lena, who had never been here before and most likely didn’t know Stan and would never have had a motive to kill him. She understood not all killings had motives, but it was rare. There was usually history. And Brodsky said that this murder was personal.

  “I outlawed glitter in my house after the last project,” Lisa said. “It was years ago, and I swear I’m still finding glitter in the carpet, couch, clothes. It’s crazy!”

  Cora leaned forward. “We don’t use it anymore either. Same reason. I wish I had kids to blame the mess on!”

  When those words spilled out of her mouth, an odd tingling spun through her. Kids. Would she ever have any? She had to admit that the closer she and Adrian became, the more she considered children. Dreamed about how they would be a part of him and a part of her. She’d always believed her work would keep her from having children, as often there was just nothing left over emotionally after a long day at the Sunny Street Women’s Shelter. And she was fine with that. These new hankerings for children were directly related to Adrian. A pang of longing moved through her. She’d see him soon enough—she needed to focus on the retreat, and on the murder. Poor Zee was still in jail.

  The image of the crusty bloody scarf haunted her through most of the night. Why hadn’t she heard back from Brodsky? She pulled out her phone, realizing he probably wasn’t awake yet, but she still texted him. Maybe it would be the first thing he’d read. A gentle reminder.

  Cora appreciated he wanted to solve this case as much as she did. The first few days after a murder case were imperative to the investigation. Fresh evidence was always best.

  She bit into her muff in, as her eyes searched each of the attendees in the room. She couldn’t imagine any of them killed Stan. She wouldn’t imagine it. The other possible scenario was almost more troubling: that someone had come into Kildare House and disposed of the bloody scarf. When?

  She shivered. She always left the front door open during retreat days. Perhaps she should stop.

  * * *

  “I’m so excited about the raku bead–making class,” Roni said. “I have a few raku vases I bought at a craft fair. I bet it makes some sweet beads.”

  “It does,” Lena said. “I’m going to head over to Jane’s studio and see what I can do to help prep. I’ll catch you later.” She exited the room with a flourish, dressed in jeans and a flowing silk shirt. Cora hoped she’d wear an apron over that blouse during raku class.

  “These beads are raku,” Annie said, fingering the beaded necklace she wore, consisting of three strands of iridescent purple beads with flecks of blue and gray.

  “Nice!” Roni said. “Did you make those?”

  Annie touched her beads and smiled. “No. They were a gift. I love them. I’m not a crafty person.”

  “Everything you’ve done has been so perfect,” Roni said.

  “Well, thanks,” Annie said. “When I have time to myself, I don’t feel the impulse. I don’t have much time to myself, but when I do, I scrapbook, or write, or sometimes read.”

  “I have to keep my hands busy. Even when I get a chance to sit and watch TV or something, my hands need to be moving,” Roni said.

  She twisted her napkin in her hands. Her coral-painted nails shined against the white linen napkin.

  “What do you usually do?” Vera asked.

  “I’m a quilter. I lap quilt.”

  Judy chimed in. “I don’t have the patience for that. And I don’t think my kids would ever leave me alone long enough to finish anything. When I get downtime, I sleep or read.”

  “Speaking of kids,” Lisa said, and rose from the couch. “I need to check in this morning. I’ll see you all over at the studio.”

  Cora checked her phone again. No message from Brodsky. Maybe it was too early to hear from him. Maybe he couldn’t get a rush on the blood sampling. Still, discomfort nagged at her. She found herself regarding each of her retreaters with suspicion. Wondering if they had what it took to kill a man. Wondering if any of them were acquainted with Stan. How to find out, without them suspecting what she was doing? She couldn’t risk tipping off a guilty party—if indeed there was a guilty party here. Keep your mouth shut. She checked her phone one more time before carrying her dishes into the kitchen and announcing she was heading over to Jane’s studio for the class.

  “Does everybody know where the carriage house is? Just follow the sidewalk through the garden, and you can’t miss it. It’s charming,” she said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Jo said. She was one of the quiet ones. There were always a few. She appeared to be having a good time, b
ut rarely inserted herself into conversations. She had kept her hands busy knitting when she wasn’t beading.

  “Great,” Cora said.

  The two of them left the house together and walked through the garden.

  “I love your garden,” Jo said. “It’s elegant and charming at the same time. I’ve always wanted to garden, but I have a rather black thumb.”

  “I can’t take credit for any of it. Ruby is the gardener, and before her, there was a landscape artist and all that. The family who owned this place was quite wealthy.”

  The autumn air was brisk. Cora was glad she’d grabbed a sweater to pull over her shoulders.

  “No kidding,” Jo said. “You have a gorgeous house and property. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to live like this.”

  “Me too. I guess I get a glimpse of it by living here. But I live in the attic. We close the rest of the place up when there’s not a retreat.”

  “Smart,” Jo said. She sighed a long, drawn out sigh. “I confess, I miss my kids. I’m not sure I can stay here much longer.”

  Cora’s heart dropped to her feet. “I’m sorry. Are you sure?”

  They both stopped walking. Jo half shrugged shyly, and her eyes would not meet Cora’s. “I know it’s not fashionable. But I honestly prefer to be at home with my kids.”

  “Why did you come?” Cora said.

  “My husband insisted,” she said. “In fact, I’m sure he wants me to stay. I talked to him last night, and he’s upset. Thinks I’m not trying. But I just feel so empty without them. My kids.”

  A natural beauty emanated from Jo. Still, worry lined her eyes.

  Did she not trust her husband with her kids?

  “Don’t worry, Jo,” Cora said. “I hope you’ll stay, but if you decide to go, I’ll refund part of your money, okay?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, please. I just don’t want you to think it’s anything you’ve done. It’s a lovely place, and everybody has been so nice,” she said. “It’s a great idea. It’s just not for me, I’m afraid.”

  Twitches of disappointment circled in the center of Cora’s chest. “I understand,” she said, just as they were walking up to the carriage house. “You’ll stay for this class?”