Assault and Beadery

by Mollie Cox Bryan

  Jo cracked a smile. “Of course.”

  A mom’s retreat wasn’t going to succeed for everybody, was it? Why did Cora feel like such a failure? One woman. Jo was just one woman. One woman who wanted to go back to her kids. Out of fifteen. That wasn’t bad odds. Still, it flummoxed Cora. How could she help but take it personally? This is business, but business is about relationships. Had she failed Jo? Oh, she hated these feelings.

  Then another feeling—or thought—occurred to her, which she hated even more. What if Jo killed Stan and the reason she wanted to leave was just to get as far away from the crime as possible?

  Cora sized her up. She was the largest woman at the retreat, standing at least six feet tall. She had large hands, as well. She was probably strong. Was she strong enough to kill a man with a blade?

  She checked her phone again. Nothing from Brodsky. Damn. How much longer was this going to take?

  The others made their way to the studio. Jane and Lena were teaching this class together, but Jane took the lead.

  “Yesterday we worked with polymer clay, which is an entirely different animal than ceramic clay,” she began. “A quick, dynamic way to fire clay beads is to raku fire them. A raku firing consists of making beads from raku clay, drying them, and bisque firing them. Afterward, you paint them with raku glazes and put them back in the kiln, where they are heated up to seventeen hundred degrees Fahrenheit. I’ve rented a special kiln just for this. So, after the fired beads are pulled from the heat and plunged into organic matter, like water, there’s this reaction with the glazes, which creates beautiful iridescent colors or smoky grays and blacks.”

  “Stunning results,” Lena said.

  Cora noted that she had a full apron over her silk blouse. The silk blouse had swirls of red in it that matched Lena’s lipstick perfectly. Funny, she may have called that shade blood red. Except it wasn’t the exact shade of blood she’d most recently seen. Blood red was really more brown than red. Murky red. Not a crisp, clear color. Not at all.

  Chapter 31

  As the raku bead class wrapped up, Cora finally received a text message from Brodsky: Round up all your crafters and meet me in your living room in 30.

  Why? she texted back.

  Let’s chat when I get there.

  This had to mean the bloody scarf did indeed trace back to Stan.

  What would she tell her guests?

  Until this moment, she harbored hope that nobody at this retreat had anything to do with the murder. Now she understood if Brodsky was taking the time to come over, he was certain the killer was among them.

  Waves of heat pulsed through her body. She inhaled, exhaled. Get it together, Cora! You must keep it together. No panic attacks. Not now. Think cool. Think cucumbers.

  Jane walked up to her. “What’s going on?”

  Cora held out her phone, and Jane read it over. Her eyes widened. She grabbed Cora by the arm and pulled her into the closest corner. “Okay. Now what?”

  “I don’t know,” Cora said, feeling the blood rush to her chest.

  “Are you okay?”

  “For now.”

  Jane’s deep blue eyes flitted back and forth and her mouth pursed. “Okay. Let’s just be honest with them.”

  “Honest? No,” Cora said.

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because if someone here is guilty, they will take off before Brodsky gets here.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Jane folded her arms.

  “Okay,” Cora said. “Let’s think of another reason to get them in the living room.”

  “Let’s just say we’re having a party?”

  Cora rolled her eyes. “No.”

  “Well, you think of something then, smarty-pants.”

  “Hey, no need for name-calling,” Cora said, and grinned.

  The room was full of crafters finishing their projects, chatting, and laughing. And there was a killer among them. Surrounded by beautiful beads. In a space that Cora considered, well, almost sacred.

  “Let’s say we’re having a meeting, that something important has come up and we need their feedback,” she said.

  “Brilliant,” Jane said.

  Cora gestured as if to say, Of course.

  “I’ll fill Ruby in,” Jane said, and walked over to where Ruby stood. Cora felt better knowing that Ruby would be informed. She hated keeping the scarf from her.

  “Can I have everybody’s attention, please?” Cora said, standing on the steps that led up to Jane’s apartment.

  The crowd of women circled her.

  “We’ve had a little something come up and are going to have a meeting in the living room at Kildare House in about twenty minutes. We need everybody to attend,” she said.

  “What’s going on?” Lena asked.

  “We can’t get into it right now,” Jane said. “In due time.”

  Jane stood straight, with a calm and professional aura. Cora, on the other hand, was confident sweat poured through her clothes. How could this be happening? How could there be a killer at her retreat? Had she placed others in jeopardy? Oh, she’d never live with herself if that was the case.

  Ruby made eye contact with Cora. She bit her lip.

  “Everybody has a chance to go to the bathroom, get some snacks, more coffee, whatever,” Jane said. “Please be back in the living room in twenty minutes.”

  People began to file out of the studio and head to the main house.

  Jane, Cora, and Ruby lagged behind.

  “Thank you, Jane,” Cora said. “You handled that well.”

  “This is fun,” Ruby said with sarcasm. “Kind of similar to one of those murder mystery weekends, but with a real killer.”

  Jane poked her. “Not helping, Ruby.”

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “From what Jane just told me, I’m assuming the blood on the scarf matched,” Ruby said.

  “That must be the case,” Cora said.

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean one of our retreaters did it. Someone could have planted it.”

  “Unlikely,” Jane said. “Don’t you think we would know if a stranger was hanging around?”

  “You’d think,” Ruby said. “Sometimes people can be wily and disguise themselves.”

  “I can’t think of any non-crafters who’ve come anywhere near over the last few days, except our usual deliveryman,” Cora said.

  “Same guy?”

  “Always.”

  “Okay, then. I guess we’re off to Kildare House to meet with Brodsky and catch a killer,” Ruby said, rubbing her hands together.

  “I don’t know about you all,” Jane said as they left the carriage house. “I’m finding it hard to imagine any of these women being violent enough to kill someone. We’re all getting along so well. They all seem so lovely.”

  “It’s scary how two-faced some people can be,” Ruby said. “Best not to trust anybody.”

  “That’s a sad way of looking at things,” Cora said.

  “Sad, but true. Very few people are worthy of your trust—or your heart,” Ruby said.

  “I agree,” Jane said. “Believe me. But our Cora? She’s an optimist.” She wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “And I love her for it.”

  Ruby guffawed. “She’s the only one of us who’s getting laid regularly. It’s easy to be an optimist when you’re getting some.”

  “Ruby!” Cora said, feeling her face heat. She didn’t want to think about Adrian. Not now. Not while the police were on their way to question her guests.

  “Truth!” Jane said, and high-fived Ruby.

  Chapter 32

  All the crafters gathered in the living room, which was large enough to accommodate everyone. They chatted and ate popcorn, not too concerned about this “meeting.” When the doorbell rang, it was almost as if Cora was the only one who perceived it.

  She opened the door to Brodsky and a woman. A new partner? Cora escorted them in.

  When Brodsky walked into the room, a hush fell over the
crowd.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said. “I’m Detective Brodsky. This is my partner, Detective Harris.”

  Cora’s stomach churned. She couldn’t believe this was happening at her craft retreat. Now, at least, Brodsky was here and could take over. She’d done her part and rounded all the guests up for him.

  “I understand you’re here on a craft retreat and we’ll try to make this as brief as possible. Your cooperation is vital,” he said.

  Cora noted the posture of the guests. Many of them sat up, forward, and a few crossed their arms—Vera and Annie seem unaffected.

  “I am here on police business. As you no doubt know, there was a murder committed just a few short blocks of here two days ago.”

  “What’s that got to do with us?” Lena said.

  “I’m getting to that,” he said, then smiled, twitchy. “A scarf was found in this house. A scarf covered in blood.”

  Vera gasped. “You’re kidding!”

  “I wish I were,” he said. “And we’ve gotten the lab results in on it, and the blood on the scarf belongs to our victim.”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Annie said. Others muttered in agreement.

  “Where this is going is . . . someone in this group knows something,” Detective Harris said, stepping forward. “There’s a reason the bloody scarf was found here.”

  “Sounds to me as if you’re accusing one of us of murder,” Lisa said.

  Cora’s heart lurched. “Not necessarily,” she said.

  “Yes, that’s what they are doing!” Ruby said. “If one of you killed Stan, you need to step forward.”

  “Ruby!” Jane said.

  “I can’t imagine that one of you ladies killed Stan,” Detective Brodsky said in a soothing tone. “Unfortunately, one of you knows something that will help us find the killer. Make no doubt about it, we will find out. That’s what we’re doing here. Nobody is leaving the premises until we’ve questioned every one of you. The house is secured, meaning we’ve got uniformed officers at all of the doors.”

  Cora stepped forward. “I apologize, ladies. I know you didn’t bargain for this. We’ll keep crafting as the police call each one of you in the room. It’s a minor adjustment in the day.”

  “Minor change? We’re being accused of murder!” Vera said.

  “Calm down,” Annie said. “Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”

  “I’m not worried. I’ll go first,” Vicki said with an odd, crooked smile. “I’ve never been questioned by the police before.” She was too excited to be guilty, Cora thought, unless she was just plain twisted, getting off by messing with them.

  “Thanks for volunteering,” Brodsky said, smiling, then turned to Cora. “Shall we use the paper arts room?”

  He was familiar with the place, as he had been here previously and knew his way around. Unfortunately.

  Cora gestured with her arm, as if to say, Go right ahead.

  Brodsky, Harris, and Vicki filed off to the room, leaving the rest of them sitting in the living room.

  “My knotting class starts in about twenty minutes,” Lena said. “We could certainly start it anytime.”

  “Good idea,” Jane replied. “Do you need help setting up?”

  “I’ve got it!” Roni stood, her voice a higher pitch than normal.

  “I can use both of you,” Lena said. “Give us about ten minutes.”

  Cora eyeballed Roni, whose eyes were rounder, her movements quicker. She must be nervous. Was it because of the police presence? Or was she the guilty party? She stopped that idea. It couldn’t be. She refused to allow herself to imagine one of these women as killers. And yet ... Roni was definitely at the top of the list. The list she didn’t want to think about. She sent a prayer into the Universe: Please don’t let the guilty party be one of my crafters.

  She twisted the beads around her neck. Touching them calmed her, as she contemplated her prayer beads tucked away in her apartment. She breathed in and breathed out, focusing on the word calm.

  “Can I ask you something?” Annie said, interrupting her impromptu meditation.

  “Certainly,” Cora said.

  “The murder was Wednesday night, right?”

  Cora nodded.

  “Most of us didn’t get in until Thursday, right?”

  “Well. That we know of,” Cora said. “Some might have been in town sooner, but just not here.”

  “Okay, let’s just stick with what we know,” Annie said.

  “What I know is the only two people who came in on Wednesday were Lena and Roni,” Cora said.

  “That narrows the field substantially,” Annie said.

  “You were a reporter and dealt with the facts,” Cora said. “I was a counselor, and I know that sometimes the facts don’t add up, especially when it comes to human behavior.”

  “Oh, I agree,” Annie said. “But you’ve got to start somewhere. I didn’t mention this to the others, but I’m not worried about the police being here. I find it comforting.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Because if there’s a killer here, having cops around is a good thing,” Annie said with a lowered voice.

  Cora noted several of the crafters had settled in with their knitting. Maybe they didn’t care about the knotting class. She herself was finding it hard to care about anything but what was happening in the paper arts room.

  Annie’s statement was true, and it had been pecking at her from the beginning of this mess. If there was a killer here, thank God Brodsky and Harris were also here.

  Vera leaned forward.

  “My money’s on Lena,” she said.

  “I have a dollar that says it’s Roni,” Annie replied.

  Did Cora hear things correctly? Were Annie and Vera making bets on who the murderer was?

  * * *

  Jane, Lena, and Roni finished setting up for the knotting class. They didn’t speak of the detectives questioning crafters about the death of Stan. They barely spoke at all. Lena muttered a few instructions. She was mostly attentive to the laptop and making sure her PowerPoint presentation was ready, as Jane and Roni placed the string, scissors, and beads at each seat.

  Crafters wandered in. Jane gauged the mood of the group. Some were sullen, others seemed more alert and aware as if it were dawning on them that they might be in a room with a killer.

  As each person came in and took their place, Jane counted two people missing.

  At first, Jane didn’t count Vicki because she was out of the room being questioned. Vicki then walked into the room and said, “Next!” Lisa arose from the chair, ready to take her turn. Which left two empty seats. Who was missing?

  Jane walked over to Cora, who was deep in conversation about beads and yanked on her arm.

  “What?”

  “Someone is missing.”

  Cora’s face fell. “Who?”

  “I can’t figure it out. We have two empty places.”

  Cora stood and scanned the crowded craft table.

  “It’s Jo,” she said. “Perhaps she’s in the bathroom or her room?” She pulled out her phone, and her fingers swept over the screen. “She was in the new mermaid-themed room. Can you please check on her and let me know?” Her voice was light, but fake in the way that only a friend would know.

  Jane nodded. “I’ll text you from there as soon as I know something. I’ll be right back.”

  How could they have missed Jo? Was she in the raku class? Jane sorted through her memories of the class, but she could not place her. She walked up the first flight of steps. They had told Brodsky everybody was here. How did they miss Jo? She should have been here.

  She walked up the next flight of steps to the floor the Mermaid Room was on. She crept toward the room filled with mermaid paintings, and sea glass and seashell art. She rapped on the door. “Jo? Are you there?”

  Silence.

  She opened the door, half expecting to see her napping. But the room was empty, with a made bed. It was as if nobody had ev
en been there. She looked in the wardrobe, opened a dresser drawer, which was also empty.

  Damn! Jo was gone. She texted Cora. She stood trying to calm her racing heart. Was Jo their killer? She was plain and quiet. It was hard to believe it of her. She seemed like such a gentle soul.

  She left the room and made her way downstairs. Cora met her at the bottom. “We need to tell Brodsky,” Cora said.

  “He’s questioning someone. Should we wait?”

  “No. She left. He needs to know this.”

  “When did she leave?”

  “I’m not certain. We walked to the raku class together. Jo said she was considering leaving because she missed her children.”

  “It could have been an excuse. Honestly, you don’t come on a retreat to reward yourself after a long summer at home with the kids, and then leave early because you miss them!” Jane said.

  The two of them walked toward the paper arts room, and Cora knocked on the door, then walked in.

  “This better be good,” Brodsky said.

  “We’re missing a guest,” Cora said.

  “Are you certain?”

  “I just checked her room. She’s gone,” Jane said.

  “Looks like we let a killer slip through our fingers!” Lisa said with excitement.

  “I don’t know about that,” Cora said. “She said she wanted to leave early because she missed her kids. I didn’t realize she’d left until just now. It may just be bad timing on her part.”

  “Name? Address? Phone?” Harris stood up.

  “It’s all right here,” Cora said, handing her the phone.

  “Let’s get an APB out,” Brodsky said.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Harris said, and held her phone up to her ear.

  “Sorry,” Cora said. “I wish I realized sooner.”

  “Me too,” he said. “But this is good. We’ll apprehend her.”

  “What next?” Jane asked.

  “We keep questioning all of the others,” he said. “I’m sorry. Your runaway may be guilty. But then again . . .”

  “Understood,” Cora said. “We’ll keep cooperating.”

  “Can we get you something?” Jane asked. “Coffee?”