High Strung: A Glass Bead Mystery (The Glass Bead Mystery Series)

by Janice Peacock

  “Jax, the house is the most gorgeous thing ever. It’s a giant Craftsman house.”

  “A bungalow?”

  “Way bigger than a bungalow, more like a BIG-galow. It has two doors right at the front. It looks like it’s two units.”

  “That’s right, Great-Aunt Rita made it into a duplex.”

  “Well your Great-Aunt Rita was a genius. The place needs some work, but it has nice weathered shingles, with a pretty burgundy trim. It has a nice long driveway on one side, and a small garden in front.”

  “Weathered shingles and burgundy trim sound great, so does a garden.”

  “It needs some TLC, but you’re the woman to do it.”

  “As long as I can do the work over time, and can live in it right away, I can do it. It has a roof, right?”

  “Yes, silly, it has a roof. So? You’re really coming?” Tessa asked.

  “I am. Give me a week, and I’ll be there.”

  …

  Tessa called Craig to tell him we were on our way to the park to help search for Izzy. He tried to discourage us from coming, but Craig and I both knew there was no stopping Tessa.

  Tessa had her eyes glued to the tiny screen with the blue dot. It was her only connection to her daughter at that moment. I wasn’t sure whether she wanted to see the blinking spot moving, or not, but I knew she was thinking all sorts of terrible thoughts, and only finding her girl was going to make things better.

  We parked on a residential street next to the park, and I grabbed my flashlight from the Ladybug’s trunk. Tessa and I walked up the wide trail into the darkness. Up ahead we saw the outline of the van, and when Tessa spotted it, she started running toward it. I could hear Craig’s voice calling for us, but I couldn’t see him. When I finally reached the van, we saw Craig—and Izzy was with him. They appeared at the top of a hill, coming down a long path flanked by redwoods. Tessa leaned against the side of the van and started sobbing in relief, releasing all of the tension she’d been holding in. Izzy ran ahead of her dad and collapsed into her mother’s arms, pressing her face against Tessa’s chest.

  “Mom, I’m so sorry. I was looking for this big party some friends were having at Alki Beach, and I got lost. I didn’t have my phone so I couldn’t figure out where I was.”

  “But what about the map in the glove compartment?” Tessa asked, pulling her daughter back to look her in the eye.

  “I thought there were just gloves in the glove compartment.” Oh, Izzy, she had many things to learn. “And then I ran out of gas…”

  “Because you didn’t use the money I gave you yesterday to fill up the tank.”

  “I just kinda forgot,” Izzy sobbed. “I’m sorry, I will be the best daughter ever for the rest of my life if you’ll just understand I didn’t mean to do this.”

  Craig had reached us and had taken off his coat and wrapped it around Izzy, who was dressed in only a light sweater and jeans. It was a way he could protect her even if only for a short time. Izzy was growing up, and she’d be spending more time away from home in the next few years. I hoped she wouldn’t have too many scary adventures like this. I didn’t want to keep rescuing Tessa, and her daughter, in the middle of the night.

  “Why didn’t you go to a house in this neighborhood and ask for help?” Craig asked.

  “The houses were all dark. It was too spooky.” The logic of a sixteen-year-old girl was hard to understand. “So I saw a sign for Alki, and I thought if I could just get to my friends, they could help me with the car.”

  “You headed off into the darkness to find your friends?” Tessa asked, trying to clarify the completely illogical thought process Izzy had used.

  “Yes, Mommy, I’m so sorry,” Izzy said. I noted her use of the word “Mommy.” This was Izzy’s way of being endearing. I’m sure she hoped to avoid any unpleasant punishment by being as adorable as possible.

  “Let’s all get home, okay?” said Craig. “We’ll leave the van here and get some gas for it tomorrow.”

  Izzy opted to go with her dad, figuring, I supposed, it was safer to go home with him than face the intense questioning that would occur if she’d have come back with Tessa and me.

  “She is grounded for life, but I am glad we found her before anything terrible had happened,” Tessa said. “When I saw her running toward us, I was so happy and angry at the same time. I wanted to spank her and hug her.”

  “Don’t you think she’s too old to spank? And isn’t spanking a bad thing these days?”

  “Yes on both counts, but I am allowed to feel it, even if I don’t actually do it, right?”

  I wasn’t a mother myself, but I certainly had the desire to spank my current houseguest and her dog. Clearly I was starting to lose my mind from lack of sleep as I fantasized about putting both of them over my knee. I decided it was time to change the topic, before I had any more sleep-deprived imagery in my brain. “I guess Izzy now knows you have a tracking device in your van.”

  “She hasn’t quite figured that out. She just thinks we magically appeared, as parents are supposed to do when their children are in trouble.”

  “She’ll figure it out once she calms down,” I told her, “and then you’re busted.”

  “Tracy filled me in on all sorts of interesting things today,” said Tessa, moving on to the next important crisis, now that Izzy had been found safe and sound.

  “What did you learn about Tracy and Dylan?” I asked.

  “Rosie didn’t want her daughter to be with Dylan, and took Tracy away to Spokane to go to school. According to Tracy, Rosie told her to never be in touch with Dylan again.”

  “But why? Why did she want to keep them apart? I don’t get it.”

  “Rosie thought Dylan was a bad influence,” said Tessa.

  “Did Tracy say what would have happened if she had been in touch with Dylan after they moved away?”

  “She said Rosie would have thrown her out, and she’d no longer support her or help her get through school. She stopped talking after that. Of course, I knew what choice she’d made.”

  “Did she say why she ran away when she saw Dylan?” I asked.

  “I think she was overwhelmed, and ashamed she’d left him behind years ago.”

  “What a choice—someone she loved, or getting an education. Tracy must have hated her mother for that.”

  “I think so,” Tessa agreed. “As much as she hated her mother for forcing her to leave Dylan, and with how badly Rosie treated her daughter every day, I have to wonder if Tracy really did try and kill Rosie.”

  “Don’t you think if Tracy was the killer, she’d have said something different to you? Like everything was fine, and she was happy with the choice she’d made? If she’d said that, then she’d be saying she had no reason to kill her mom.”

  “In other words,” Tessa said, “Tracy is telling the truth. And that means she’s not the killer. Or Tracy is lying, and that means she is the killer.”

  “It means she could be the killer, not is the killer,” I explained. “But, Tessa, think about it. Tracy is not the only one who hates Rosie for taking her daughter away.”

  “Oh, Jax, don’t tell me Dylan could have tried to kill Rosie. I feel like he’s an extra child of mine. I trust him to run the studio and to be around my kids.”

  Tessa was searching around in my car for a tissue. She found an unused napkin and blotted her eyes. The combination of Izzy’s disappearance and the revelations about Dylan were too much for her to handle.

  We drove for a while in silence. Ideas rattled around in my head, but it was hard to grasp one of them before it went bouncing away.

  “Tessa? Do you know where we can find Nick right now?”

  “He’s probably down on The Ave.” For some reason, the street called University Way near the University of Washington campus was nicknamed “The Ave” and not “The Way.”

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  “What? Seriously? It’s not the best place to go at night, especially for two middle-aged wo
men in a red VW.”

  “Nick can tell us more about Misty,” I said. “We don’t know much about her. Maybe he can tell us about how things were between Misty and Dylan. Nick’s known Dylan for a long time. Maybe he can also tell us what happened after Tracy left.”

  Tessa sighed, wiped her cheek, and tossed the napkin on the floor. If she weren’t so upset right now, I’d tell her to put it in her purse and throw it away later. I didn’t want the Ladybug to end up looking like her van.

  “We’ll be careful,” I promised. Tessa sighed again.

  “I can take you home before I go,” I offered.

  “Oh, no, Jax, there’s no way I’m letting you drive around all by yourself on The Ave in the middle of the night.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  We drove up and down The Ave, scanning the faces of young people standing around in knots, leaning against walls, sitting on blankets with their dogs, and playing guitars. These kids, barely adults, were smoking, drinking, and talking loudly. At night, this was their place, their community.

  There were college students out on The Ave, too, but they tended to inhabit the street during the day, and at night they all seemed to be headed somewhere in groups, moving down the street toward a destination, not just hanging around.

  “Can’t you just call Nick?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t have a phone.”

  “Right. I knew that.”

  People stared at us as we drove by, and we got a few whistles, but I think they were for the Ladybug and not for us. Tessa was old enough to be the mother of some of these kids. I suppose that made me old enough to be a parent, as well, but I didn’t want to think about it.

  We stopped at a red light, and I heard an engine rev next to me. I turned to see a big guy on a Harley, his black helmet gleaming in the streetlight, a long beard hanging down over the man’s leather vest. He gave me a nod. “Nice ride,” he said, and he revved his engine again. The light turned green and the guy took off. I started to accelerate.

  “No racing, okay?” Tessa commanded, grabbing my hand as I reached for the stick shift.

  “Oh, me? No, I wouldn’t do that.” It was a good thing she warned me, because I would have tried to beat that guy to the next light, given the opportunity.

  We drove down The Ave and then turned around and came back up toward 45th. We spotted Nick standing outside a dive bar, with a couple of other guys.

  “Nick! Nick!” I yelled as I pulled to the curb. He’d seen us and moved quickly toward my car.

  “Hey, Tessa, Jax,” said Nick, as he crouched next to our car. He smelled like a bad combination of Rainier Beer and smoke. “You guys should probably not be out here this late at night.”

  “Yes, we noticed that,” I said with a nervous smile.

  “We need to talk with you.” I could hear the strain in Tessa’s voice.

  “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? Tessa, I’ll come by Fremont Fire, we can talk all you want,” Nick said, teetering on his heels and falling backward before catching himself.

  “We’re trying to find out more about Misty’s murder,” I said. “We think you might be able to help us.” I didn’t like being stopped here and was worried we could be carjacked at any moment.

  “Look, Misty’s gone,” he muttered. “I’m trying to forget about her, you know, hoping to get wasted and stop feeling anything for a while.”

  Tessa grabbed Nick by the front of his grubby t-shirt. “Nick, you get in this car. Now.” Everyone, Nick included, knew you needed to obey Tessa when she had that intense look in her eye. I loved her for this, except when I was the one she was bossing around. She had that look now, and stared at Nick until he stopped resisting.

  Nick pulled himself up onto the side of the car. He was ready to do a cool-kid move and slide into the backseat in one smooth motion. Instead, he toppled headfirst into the car with his holey boots straight up in the air.

  I could hear his gasp of surprise, then he flipped himself over and into the seat so we could see his face, his knit cap pulled sideways and covering one eye. He was blitzed.

  “You guys, you might want to put up the roof,” Nick said, adjusting his hat, and pulling it down around his tangled black hair.

  “Dammit, is it starting to rain again?” I felt for raindrops with my open palm and looked up at the dark sky. Not a star in sight.

  “No, it’s just it will be safe, safer, you know?” And also, I thought, none of his friends would see him in the car with a couple of not-very-cool women. “Uh, but wait for a second before, before you put the top up, okay? I gotta hurl!” And with that, Nick stuck his head over the side of the car and vomited.

  Ew.

  At least he didn’t throw up in the Ladybug. Between Nick and his barfing and Stanley and his “oopsies,” I had experienced the bodily functions of others too intimately this weekend.

  “Okay, I’m good,” Nick said, wiping his mouth on his t-shirt.

  I rolled up the windows and pushed the button to put the ragtop up. We watched as it magically unfolded and curved up to the windshield. We were all safe and sound inside, as safe as we could be, in this dicey neighborhood.

  I pulled away from the curb. “Where to?”

  “We certainly can’t go back to my house,” said Tessa. “Way too much drama there after the scare with Izzy tonight.”

  “Let’s get some coffee in you, Nick,” I said. “And maybe some food. When was the last time you had something to eat?” We headed away from the University District and soon found a diner by Tessa’s shop, away from the chaos of The Ave.

  As we got out of the car, I noticed Nick seemed to have sobered up a little. He wasn’t teetering around quite so much and was able to look at me without his eyes glazing over.

  “Oh, Nick,” Tessa said, reaching out to hug him. Nick pulled away, and didn’t say a word as we walked down the street toward the café, its cheery lights glowing in the darkness ahead of us. A waitress behind the counter waved us in, and told us to take any table we liked.

  We stopped at a big comfy booth and Tessa tried again. “We are so sorry about Misty. If there is anything we can do….” Tessa reached out to Nick. This time he let her hug him.

  Tessa and I scooted into our places on the seat across from Nick. He was looking down at the table, not saying a word, staring at the artificial gold flecks swirling around on the ivory-colored Formica tabletop. All we could see was the top of his scruffy black knit cap. We couldn’t see his face or judge how he was feeling. Drunk and miserable, was my best guess.

  The waitress moved slowly toward us. There was no rush to get anywhere in the middle of the night. Not for her. Not for us. She pulled a pen from behind her ear, popped the cap off with her gray teeth, and then stood there poised with the pen above her order pad. She couldn’t talk because she had a pen cap in her mouth.

  Classy.

  Nick hadn’t looked at a menu and Tessa decided she’d order for him. “Okay, for me, I’ll have an English muffin and two eggs over easy. My friend, he’ll have your special breakfast with three eggs, toast, hash browns, and bacon. He wants coffee. Lots of coffee.”

  The waitress looked at me expectantly.

  “Pancakes.” If I was going to be awake at nearly one o’clock in the morning, I might as well enjoy myself.

  The woman popped the cap back on her pen, and was able to talk again. “Okay, and you, young man, how would ya’ like those eggs?”

  “Scrambled.” Nick finally looked up at us. His eyes were red. Maybe he’d been crying, but more likely, he’d been smoking more than cigarettes.

  “She’s all I had.” Nick rubbed his eyes, and pulled off his cap. His dark hair stuck up in all directions. I noticed a small geometric tattoo on his wrist. It matched Misty’s. I swallowed hard to keep the big lump in my throat from growing bigger. Nick sat there looking at his hands, fidgeting.

  “The cop said they aren’t going to try and find her killer. He said Misty was killed for drugs, but other than weed, we were clean,
and had been for a while.” Nick was scraping something out from under one of the nails, and then another.

  “Nick? What’s that you are picking at?” asked Tessa.

  “It’s bead release. Last time Misty was dipping mandrels at the studio, I accidentally tipped over the jar and got bead release everywhere. I’m still trying to get it all out from underneath my nails.”

  I remembered Misty had been dipping mandrels when I was at the studio, and had watched them clean up a spill.

  “The white powder under Misty’s fingernails, it’s not meth, like the detective suspected, it’s just bead release!” I shouted, too loudly. The only other customers in the diner, a young couple sharing a piece of pie at the counter, stopped their conversation and stared at us. I dropped my volume by a few decibels. “One reason Detective Grant thought Misty was killed in a drug deal was because she had white powder under her nails. He thought it was meth.”

  “But Jax, why does it matter?” Tessa pressed her palms to her temples, hoping to squeeze some logic into her brain.

  “Because if Misty wasn’t killed for drugs, and I’d say she wasn’t, and Nick, you don’t think she was killed for drugs,” Nick nodded in agreement, “then we need to look for someone else. Like someone from the bead shop, someone attending the WEED party.” Saying “weed party” made me imagine a different kind of event than what it had been, a party where a bunch of middle-aged women danced to new wave hits from a few decades ago.

  The food arrived. It took longer for the waitress to bring our meals to us at her snail’s pace than it had taken to cook it. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I started pouring syrup over my perfectly golden pancakes. Yum.

  Nick was hungry and started shoveling food into his mouth.

  “Nick, here’s the thing. The detective thinks I had a reason to kill Misty,” said Tessa, looking at Nick seriously, waiting for what she was saying to sink in. “In other words, if she wasn’t killed for drugs, then I’m at the top of the suspect list as her murderer.”

  “What?” Nick was stunned. “You were so cool to us. You helped us.”

  “Detective Grant says that because I gave you both free studio time to work at the torch, you and Misty owed me money.”