“But Zee was the most talented, and things lined up her way,” Lulu added.
“There was a song . . .”
“She claimed she had written it,” Zee said. “I should have just let her have it. Then maybe none of us would be here.”
“It wasn’t hers. I testified to that,” Lulu said.
“So did Stan,” Zee said.
“This is all about a song?” Cora said.
“Not just any song,” Lulu said. “It was one that got a Grammy.”
“It was odd how she kept claiming that she wrote it,” Zee said. “The next thing I knew she was dragging us into court.”
“Is that how you met your ex?” Cora asked.
She smiled and nodded. “Lord, I was crazy about him.”
“After they were married, it made things worse because Jo assumed Judge Henry ruled in Zee’s favor because of his friendship with her ex,” Lulu added.
“Judge Henry?” Brodsky asked.
“The one and only,” Zee said.
Brodsky folded his arms across his chest and seemed to stifle a grin. What was that about, Cora wondered.
“Yeah, the old fart,” Zee said.
“It’s hard to imagine us then,” Lulu said. “I know that. We’re old and white-haired now. But then? We were young and didn’t have a care in the world. We were on top of our game. In love with life. Always having a good time.”
“We didn’t have the time to worry about our stepsister or her feelings,” Zee said. “I regret that. She isolated herself. There was not much we could do.”
“So it became twisted around, and with the years, Jo became even more isolated and hard. She took after her daddy, mean as a snake,” Lulu said. “Stillwell mean.”
Cora listened intently to the tale of a family gone horribly wrong, wondering about their mother and how cruel the man had been to her. With a cruel father and sisters who turned their back on her, at least in Jo’s mind, no wonder she carried such torment and pain. Still, it didn’t excuse any of her behavior. Not at all.
* * *
Once everything was settled, Cora and Jane headed back to Kildare House after giving Brodsky their statement. Annie and Vera would be along soon.
Jane was never so glad to see the Victorian house rising above the trees, the iron gate and its curly wrought-iron décor, or the huge wraparound front porch spilling over with macramé plant holders with all sorts of flowers and plants. Had she not perceived them before?
“What’s wrong?” Cora said as Jane stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to the porch.
“I just hadn’t spotted all the plants and flowers,” Jane said. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Cora beamed. “It helps that Ruby is an expert.”
“How are you doing?” Jane asked.
“I’m fine now,” Cora said, walking up the creaky steps to the porch. “I passed out from a panic attack earlier. After that, I was fine.”
“That was one of your biggest fears.”
“Yes, and you know what? It was not that big of a deal. I mean, it felt horrible at the time. But when I woke up it was like . . . my panic was under control.”
Jane opened the front door. The place was quiet, but it had a chemical scent wafting through the air.
They walked into the living room and understood why. Jane had forgotten about the manicurists they had coming as a special surprise for their guests. Four manicurists had set up in the living room and were working diligently on the crafters.
“Hello!” Lena said, looking up from her manicure. “What a pleasant surprise! Where have you two been?”
Ruby walked into the room. “That’s what I’d like to know. And where are Annie and Vera?”
“Would you believe it if we told you they are with the police?” Cora said.
Ruby harrumphed. “I suppose I’m old enough to have seen just about everything at this point.”
“The good news is the police apprehended Jo,” Cora said.
“After Annie ran after her and tackled her,” Jane added. A group was gathering.
“Unbelievable,” Roni said.
“Why did Annie tackle her if the police were there?” Ruby asked.
“Well, Jo was escaping, and the police were upstairs,” Cora said.
“Wait. What?” Lena said as the manicurist continued her work, looking up occasionally to follow the conversation.
“I think we better start from the beginning,” Cora said.
“Good idea,” Ruby said with her hands on her hips.
Cora and Jane told the retreaters the story. A sordid, sad tale of sisters and their song that hit it big. One sister claimed she wrote it—tried to sue the other sister and failed. Carrying it around with her for years and finally seeing her opportunity to set things right.
“So how did Stan get from the alley to the stage?” Ruby asked.
“Jo had been following him and trying to figure out when would be a good time to strike,” Cora said.
“When she saw him go down from Roni’s blow, she pulled up and dumped him in her van,” Jane said. “They took a ride to the theater.”
“By that point, he was waking up, and she helped him into the theater,” Cora said.
“He thought she was helping him, right up to the moment she knifed him,” Jane said.
“How awful!” Lena exclaimed. “But why him?”
“It was his testimony that gave her no hope at ever claiming the rights to that song,” Jane said.
“What a story!” Roni exclaimed.
The manicurists just kept on working, apparently unimpressed by or oblivious to the sensational story, as other crafters moved into the room, waiting their turn to get their nails done.
“I’m glad my daughter’s not here,” Jane said. “She may never have to know about any of this.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Cora said.
Jane and her daughter, London, had been through a lot together. She was a single mom because her ex-husband was a violent and ill man. This left her girl more mature than most seven-year-olds, which broke Jane’s heart and made Jane, perhaps, a little too protective of her. She was her only child and her only family.
“That kid is off having the time of her life,” Ruby said. “I’m so glad she missed all this. Speaking of kids . . .” she said as her voice drifted and her eyes wandered toward the door, where her son, Cashel, stood.
“I’m not a kid, am I?” Cashel said, grinning.
“You’re mine,” Ruby said.
Cashel was Ruby’s only child. A fine lawyer, he was the apple of her eye. Most of the time.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came because, well, I heard through the grapevine that Cora and Jane saved the day and I want the scoop,” he said, looking at Cora and Jane.
“The grapevine in Indigo Gap is terribly short,” Cora said.
“You ain’t kidding,” Jane said, folding her arms across her chest. Jane wasn’t sure she liked Cashel. He was always milling around. He seemed to be getting over his crush on Cora, which was a good thing since Cora was in love with Adrian. Still, Jane didn’t like the way he looked at Cora sometimes—before catching himself. It had been a while. Maybe he’d given up hope.
He hugged and kissed his mom in greeting and stood with his arm around her.
“Oh, manicures,” he said, joking. “Can I get one?”
“I’m happy to give you a manicure,” one of the manicurists spoke up.
“Well, go on, Cashel, get those nails done,” Ruby said.
“Sorry,” he said, looking at his watch. “I really don’t have time.”
“Oh, come on, Cashel,” Jane said, dragging him by the arm. “Let’s get your nails done.”
He held his hands up. “I give up!”
Chapter 59
As Cora prepared for the party downstairs, Luna wrapped herself around her legs.
“What?” she said to the cat. “I fed you, changed your litter box. Now
what?”
She lifted Luna and cradled her in her arms, rubbing her head and ears. The cat’s agitation turned to purring. “You just wanted a little love.”
Cora glanced at the clock. Adrian would arrive soon.
Hard to imagine that several hours ago she was tied up to a chair at the Blue Note, along with Zee and Lulu. And she had passed out and survived it. She always secretly feared that if she passed out during a panic attack, she’d never awaken. Like almost every fear she had, once she faced it, it didn’t seem too bad.
Though being tied up was not something she’d ever imagined happening to her.
This retreat was such a failure. She wanted to crawl back into her bed and pull the covers over her head.
It wasn’t her fault. Stan died. She had nothing to do with it. Still, she made a mental note to talk with Brodsky about extra security measures for Kildare House to detract any people with problems. She didn’t think she could run security checks on every person who came through her door. This was a retreat. Besides, how likely was it to happen again that one of her guests would be involved in a murder?
Not very.
She placed Luna on the bed, then looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing over her purple crushed velvet 1970s granny skirt. She wore a white poet blouse and an amethyst necklace she made this weekend. Her skin was still not quite rosy. She was pale.
But she’d had quite a day. What did she expect?
Lipstick. I just need a little lipstick.
She smoothed pink onto her lips. “Better, but not great.”
A rap came at her door. “Come in,” she said, walking toward the door, watching it open, and seeing her man standing in front of her looking as handsome as ever. Something was wrong.
She hugged and kissed him anyway.
“Are you okay?” she asked with his arms still wrapped around her.
He frowned. “I should be asking you that question.”
“Oh, you heard,” she said, untangling herself from him.
“Thank God you’re okay,” he said. “Why did you go to the Blue Note? You could have been killed.”
“Well, I had just planned to return Zee’s bag,” she said.
“Yes, but, why do you always place yourself in danger?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Cora said after a few seconds. Why did she feel like she was being scolded?
“It worries me,” he said, following her into the living room.
She turned to him. “Look at me. I’m all right.” She opened her arms in a grand gesture.
He frowned. “It happens too much, Cora,” he said.
“I was just thinking the same thing. Surely, the next retreat won’t be harboring a murderer,” she said.
“Let’s hope not.”
“Statistically speaking, it’s almost impossible.”
His mouth twisted. “I guess you’re right. I want you to promise me that you’ll stop involving yourself with investigating crimes.”
“Adrian—”
“No excuses. I love you, and it’s got to stop.”
Cora hated the expression in his eyes. He did love her, she recognized it, but did he know that he couldn’t control her that way? Why should she explain herself to him?
“Look, Adrian. I love you, too. First, you have to realize I don’t go seeking out problems. Every case I’ve been involved in, I felt I had no choice. Jane was a suspect, you were a suspect, people I care about,” she said, taking a deep breath. “This time it was Zee. Then I found the bloody scarf here. How could I not get involved?”
“You always carry it a little too far,” he said. “Like the extra bit about going to the Blue Note.”
Cora crossed her arms. “Maybe. But who knows what would have happened if I didn’t go there?”
“I don’t know . . .” he said, his voice trailing off.
Cora moved beyond her slight anger toward Adrian. She was touched that he cared so much. He had to understand she was a helper. It was in her blood to not sit idly by if someone needed her. She wouldn’t apologize for that. But, at the same time, his concern and caring were coming from a good place.
“I thought I’d talk to Brodsky about more security,” she said, walking toward him.
“I like the sound of that.”
“Good,” she said. “Now, we have a party to go to, don’t we?”
He kissed her, pulled her close to him. She loved every part of him. His firm long arms held her in place as he nuzzled into her neck. “I don’t want to come off as a controlling ass,” he whispered. “I just love you so much.”
Cora’s pulse quickened and something in her unraveled. A sinking, luscious feeling came over her. “And I love you, too.”
“Do we have to go to the party?”
Did they? She looked at the clock. They were already late. Who’d notice if they took thirty minutes or more to themselves? Her conscience pricked at her.
“Yes,” she said. “But after the party, we have all night to ourselves.”
“Promise?” he said, grinning.
“I do,” she said, untangling herself from him and leading him to the door.
Chapter 60
Zee’s flowers captivated several of the retreaters. They stood and marveled at the design of her arrangement. Cora stood for a moment and agreed with them.
The sound of a guitar filled the air. Cora had met this musician at a local fair. He played beautiful classical guitar, which she envisioned as excellent background noise to the party.
She and Adrian moved into the dining room, where the food was set up.
Cora stood for a moment, studying the display of chocolate food. The caterers outdid themselves with a three-tier chocolate raspberry cake, silver platters of chocolate-covered fruit, tiny colorful cupcakes, and mini-pies. Breathtaking. She clutched her chest and gasped. “How beautiful!”
“Smells good, too,” Adrian said.
She took a whiff and swore she could feel endorphins popping through her brain. Heavenly.
Adrian reached for a plate. “Let’s share a plate,” he said. “One of each?”
“Share? Are you kidding me? I want my own plate, thank you very much,” she said.
Adrian grinned. “I figured.”
The two of them filled their plates, just as Ruby and Cashel joined them at the table.
“Good God. Where to start?” Cashel said, gaping over the display of chocolate food.
“This has been quite a retreat,” Ruby said as she loaded up on the chocolate-covered strawberries.
“So I hear,” Adrian said, and then took a bite of his mini-pie.
“You’d think there’d be some complaints. But I’ve not heard one,” Ruby said, plopping mini-cupcakes onto her plate. Sparkling gold icing swirled on top of them.
“That is good to know,” Cora said. “Do you think your classes went well?” She cut off a bit of her cake with her fork.
“Yes,” Ruby said. “Everything ran smoothly, except, you know . . .”
“I know,” Cora said, holding up her hand to interrupt her. Cora wanted to try to forget about it all and have a decent time socializing with her guests.
Cora took a bite of the cake—just the right texture, light, but not too light, and a hint of raspberry.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” she said to nobody in particular.
Lena sidled up to the group, smiling, beaming. “I’ve gotten a lot of compliments. These women are the best.”
“I hope they go home feeling relaxed,” Cora said.
“Me too,” Ruby replied.
“They will also have some skills. Some of these women have a lot of talent,” Lena said, and lifted a glass of wine to her lips. Her newly pink fingernails contrasted against the white wine.
She fussed with her mini-pie. “Beading is a fabulous hobby,” Ruby said. “I’m sure these women will keep it up. It doesn’t take a lot of space. And it doesn’t have to be expensive. I like it.”
With Adrian by her sid
e, Cora walked into the living room, where most of the guests sat and hung out, eating the treats and drinking wine, water, or coffee.
Annie and Vera sat on the red vintage couch and were leaning over checking out the Moroccan-tiled table.
“Did you make this?” Vera said as Cora walked over to them.
“No,” she replied. “A friend made it and gave it to me.”
“It’s beautiful,” Annie said. “Must have been a good friend.”
Cora nodded. “Yes, she was a woman I counseled years ago. When she learned I was opening this place, she sent it to me. In fact, a lot of what you see in this room are gifts, made by women from the Sunny Street Women’s Shelter.”
“How touching,” Vera said. “They must like you,” she added with a joking note.
Cora’s heart fluttered. They must. No matter what happened with this retreat, or the next, she had made a difference. Certainly, there were probably just as many failures as successes, if not more.
She glanced around the room at the woven wall hangings, the paintings, the handmade rugs, the pottery, and the quilt. The room was a paean to the women she’d helped, who finally had gotten past their pain enough to reach out and send their counselor gifts.
“Why, thank you,” Cora said.
She held a plate piled with chocolate goodies. “No, seriously. With everything I’ve been through this weekend, I just want you to know that it was good having you on my side,” she said.
Flummoxed, as she didn’t think that was true, she struggled for something to say, but Adrian stepped in.
“It’s always good to have her on your side, believe me,” Adrian said.
“Well, who is this?” Vera said with her smooth Virginia lilt.
“Oh, I’m sorry, everybody. This is my boyfriend, Adrian,” Cora said.
“Where has she been hiding you?” Annie said.
“I’ve been working,” he replied. “I’m a school librarian, and we’ve been taking inventories.”
“Fun stuff,” Annie said.
He frowned. “Not why I became a librarian.”
“Why did you become one?” Cora asked. “I don’t think I’ve asked you.”
“I love books,” he said. “Kinda like how crafts save some people, books can do the same thing. Especially with kids.”
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