On the positive side, she had talked to Russ, briefly, and he’d sounded so much better than he had the night before. She’d hoped to run over to the hospital before the workshop, but Russ suggested she come by later, explaining there’d been a steady stream of fellow police officers stopping in.
“You won’t be too tired?” she’d asked.
“Not for you,” he’d answered, which made her smile. “I’ll have the nurse put a hold on visitors pretty soon and catch a few Z’s. You’ll be on my “approved” list.
“Nice to be approved of.”
“Highly approved of,” he’d said, which had broadened her smile even more.
Jo pushed the large box of tissue papers to the middle of the table. She was deciding how much wire and glue to set out when Loralee and Dulcie walked in.
“There she is!” Loralee called out cheerfully with what was becoming her regular greeting. Jo rather liked it, coming, as it did from a good friend. If, on the other hand, Jo started hearing it from strangers as she walked down the street, as in “there she is – that murder suspect” - that would be an altogether different matter.
Dulcie followed behind, and Jo noted the similarities and differences between mother and daughter. Dulcie mirrored her mother’s petite frame, but hadn’t inherited Loralee’s blond curls, sporting instead straight brown hair worn in a becoming bob. From the few interactions Jo had had with Dulcie, she seemed to have been blessed with much of Loralee’s blithe nature, but tempered with a touch of steeliness. This surfaced particularly when her young family was concerned, much like a protective mother bear. But Jo decided that since she had no intention to ever get between Dulcie and her brood it shouldn’t be a problem.
Jo welcomed them both, listening politely as Dulcie launched into a detailed explanation of the amount of effort it had taken to arrive on time what with her having to feed and bathe both children plus tidy up and get a couple of loads of laundry going. Since her husband Ken was apparently home and not incapacitated, Jo suspected he had long ago realized she was happier doing such things herself – and then being able to exclaim about it - and that his best bet was to keep out of her way.
“How is our lieutenant doing?” Loralee asked, her face pinched with concern. “Much better,” Jo assured her.
Loralee gave Jo’s arm a squeeze. “I know this is a difficult time for you, dear. I wouldn’t have dreamed of expecting you to carry on with this workshop, except Javonne thought we might be able to come up with ways to help with that craft show problem if we all gathered together.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that happened, Loralee. There’s something about everyone’s ideas being thrown into the mix that always seems to work.”
“Like putting together a good potting soil,” Dulcie said, looking sage. “A little humus, some fertilizer, maybe a bit of lime, and pretty soon good things get growing.”
Loralee laughed lightly, explaining, “Dulcie’s been working in the garden lately.” Ina Mae and Javonne pushed through the Craft Corner door at that time and Loralee waved them over, calling out cheerily, “C’mon, ladies. Time to get planting!”
<><><>
“We can start on our paper flowers before getting into anything else,” Jo said, as the women seated themselves around her table. “Loralee, do you remember these?”
“Yes,” Loralee said. “I certainly do. Those paper flowers were one of the first things I noticed when we first visited Sylvia and Xavier. They had brightened up that little apartment so beautifully.”
“How is the baby?” Javonne asked.
“Even prettier than the flowers,” Loralee said, “and growing like a weed,” she added with a grin.
“I would have loved to have Sylvia help teach this class,” Jo said, “but her hands are pretty full for now. She did give me a few tips, though, and I’ve practiced by making several myself.” And hung them about my booth at Michicomi, she remembered but didn’t mention, not wanting to bring up the craft fair problem just yet. Jo reached for the tissue paper. “There are several types of flowers we can make, but we’ll start with the easiest one.”
Jo picked out a sheet each of white, blue, red and yellow and laid them evenly on top of one another. “You can use one color or several colors, whichever you prefer. But you’ll need four sheets, and we’ll cut a square out of all four lined up together.” Jo did that, then straightened them up neatly. “Next, keeping the papers together, you’ll make small accordion pleats like this all across the square.” Jo folded her papers back and forth until she ended up with a skinny rectangle.
“Now,” she said, “take a piece of wire and twist it tightly around the center of this rectangle, and voila!” Jo fluffed out her paper layers to form a beautiful, and extremely colorful flower.
“Wow, neat!” Dulcie cried.
“And remarkably simple,” Ina Mae said.
“It is,” Jo agreed. “And once you have your flower you can cover the wire stem with floral tape or use crepe paper if you prefer. Make a bunch of these and you’ve got a vase-full of long lasting decoration.”
“Hah,” Javonne said. “I don’t expect them to last long in my place, between my roughhousing kids and the dog. Maybe if I hang them from the ceiling.”
The ladies got down to work, picking out their tissue papers as Jo passed around scissors and rulers. “After you guys finish this one,” she said, “I’ll show you a few more-intricate flowers shapes until we run out of time.”
“This would be a piece of cake for Vernon, wouldn’t it?” Javonne said, referring to Vernon Dobson, the only male in Jo’s past beading workshops. Vernon, a retired butcher, had shown surprising ability at learning that particular craft, and had helped Javonne with it, as she had struggled.
“Oh, Vernon,” Loralee said. “Where did they go, again?”
“A cruise in the western Caribbean,” Javonne said. “His wife wanted to go, he told me. I think he wasn’t too sure about it. He’s never been on a cruise.”
“He’ll enjoy it,” Loralee said. “But it’s unfortunate for us that he’s gone right now. We could probably use his input on Jo’s problem.”
“Speaking of which,” Ina Mae said, “what’s the latest, Jo, on the Linda Weeks murder.” She lined up tissue papers she had chosen in varying shades of purple.
Jo had stepped back to pour herself a mug of coffee, wondering as she did how many cups that came to for the day. Her adrenaline from the previous night had begun to run out somewhere near mid-afternoon.
“I found out a couple of things,” she said. “The first from Meg Boyer, when I went over to the Abbot’s Kitchen.”
“Oh, Meg!” Loralee cried. “Is she happy with her new job?”
“It seems to be working out. Meg was able to find out for me that Linda’s ex-husband lives over in Marlsburg. He does custom-made furniture.”
“Marlsburg!” Dulcie said. “That’s right down the road!”
“Right, half an hour’s drive at most,” Jo agreed.
“Hmm,” Ina Mae said. “Do you suppose this ex-husband knew Linda was in the area?”
“That’s something I plan to find out. I’ll drive over to see him tomorrow.”
“Would you like me to come with you?” Dulcie asked. She had chosen to make her first flower in a single shade of hot pink and was folding her square carefully. “I’m looking for a corner cabinet for our dining room – they’re so hard to find – so maybe I could start off the conversation with this ex-husband about making one, and then work things around to Linda.”
“A wonderful idea,” Loralee chimed in. “I can watch the children for you, so no problem there.”
The others nodded, and Jo, who had planned to take the trip alone, thought that it might just work to take Dulcie along. Dulcie had an easy, disarming way about her that could help draw Patrick Weeks out. “Okay,” Jo said. “Does one o’clock work for you?”
“Perfect.” Dulcie fanned out her tissue paper flower which had turned out quit
e well. Dulcie grinned, admiring her first craft creation, and Loralee beamed like the ever-proud mother she was.
Seeing that the group had mastered the basic paper flower, Jo proceeded to demonstrate a petal flower shape, showing them how to cut the tissue paper, in a circles this time, then fold the circles into quarters and shape the petals with scissors.
“Once we have the flower part done,” she said, “we’ll thread the petal shapes onto a wire and add a small center with a cotton ball.” She wired and glued, then held her finished flower up to four delighted ahs.
As she reached for her scissors to begin her second flower, Ina Mae asked, “You said you’d found out a couple of things, Jo. What’s the second?”
Jo shared what she’d learned about Bill Ewing, explaining to those who hadn’t heard yet, exactly what her interest in him was. “Carrie and Dan are dining tonight at the restaurant of the friend he’s staying with. I’m hoping they can pick up a little more information about him while they’re there.”
Ina Mae nodded approvingly as she folded her newly cut circles into quarters.
“He’s a photographer, you said?” asked Javonne, still picking out the papers for her second flower. “My Harry loves cameras. He’s always playing around with them and picking up new lenses and things - when he’s not fixing teeth, that is. Maybe he can be of some help in talking with this Ewing guy.”
“Wednesday’s his day off, isn’t it?” Ina Mae asked. “Perhaps if Jo finds out where he’ll be photographing a barn that day, Harry and Jo could accidentally run into him.”
Wow, Jo thought, looking over her group of friends who were so rapidly coming up with ways to help her. Tonight’s idea mix, she thought, grinning as Dulcie’s metaphor came to mind, was beginning to turn her bare dirt plans into fertile ground.
“That’d be terrific, Javonne,” she said. “See what Harry thinks of it.”
Jo smiled as she watched four sets of hands work diligently at their budding bouquets. Who knew what an evening of paper flowers making might help her dig up? And hopefully, she added, taking a sip from her coffee mug, quash the seeds of suspicion toward her that had been germinating in Sheriff Franklin’s mind.
CHAPTER 12
At nine o’clock, Jo waved off her workshop group and locked the front door behind them, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over her. One more quick cup of coffee, she decided, and then she’d take off for the hospital. She drained the last of the pot into her mug, then tidied up the workshop area quickly between sips, eager to be on her way.
The drive to the hospital was quiet, as Abbotsville streets usually were at that time of night, and the hospital lobby turned out to be even quieter and much emptier than it had been the previous night. Jo thought how she much preferred this calm atmosphere. Last night’s had been filled with stress and worry, while the current one gave out a feeling of restfulness and healing, exactly what she wanted for one particular patient.
Russ had been moved from the ICU to a private room. As she stepped off the elevator, Jo spotted a uniformed police officer standing guard. Why, she wasn’t quite sure, since Russ’s shooter was definitely in custody. She decided it was simply one way of Russ’s comrades showing extra concern for one of their own. She started to give the officer her name, but he smiled and waved her in before she got more than “Jo” out, saying, “He’s been waiting for you.”
Jo peeked in and found Russ awake, the head of his bed raised as he watched the televised news. “Hi,” she said.
Russ flashed his old smile, not the exhausted one of last night, which cheered her immensely as well as making her heart skip. He looked much less pale than he had, too, though still far from robust.
“You made it,” he said, clicking off his TV with the remote.
“Looked forward to it all day.” Jo went over to the right side of his bed, his uninjured side. He held out his hand and when she took it, he drew her close. They kissed, but gently, Jo acutely aware that although Russ looked and sounded much better, his strength still had a long way to go. She stroked his cheek, then said, “You shaved!”
“With help. Couldn’t greet my date looking like a caveman.”
“Your date,” Jo said, running a hand through her hair, “probably looks like something the saber-toothed tiger dragged in.”
Russ shook his head and started to say something, but was overcome by a fit of coughing. Jo poured fresh water into the glass on his end table and held it out to him. He took a swallow, cleared his throat, then handed it back. “Thanks.” He grinned. “You’d make a good nurse.”
Jo laughed. “Maybe if serving water were all I had to do. Do you need anything from a real nurse?”
He shook his head, and Jo pulled up a chair and sat down, taking his hand once more.
“How’re you feeling?” she asked, leaning closely.
“Hard to tell with all the pain meds they’re pumping into me. Ask me in a couple days when it starts tapering off.”
“You scared me half to death, you know.”
Russ squeezed her hand. “Sorry about that. My own damn fault for getting in the way of the bullet.”
“Mark Rosatti said you were trying to help the girlfriend who panicked.”
Russ winced and shook his head. “If she’d only hung on a few more minutes. The situation seemed to be calming down, and we might have walked them both out of there with no problem. I don’t know, maybe he said something that really scared her, made her decide to run for it.”
Russ’s voice cracked dryly and he reached for his water. Jo got it for him, then pulled the tray table over the bed for him to use.
“Turns out,” Russ said, after a swallow of water, “the guy had been showing signs of instability for a good while, which they’re telling me might have been handled if he’d gotten treatment.”
“Why didn’t he get it?”
Russ shook his head. “Who knows? Denial? Ignorance? The system? Whatever it was, people ended up getting hurt because he didn’t go for help early on.”
Jo rubbed Russ’s hand, thinking about that. “What is the girlfriend’s condition?”
“Bullet grazed her. She’ll be okay. And the shooter? Not a scratch. He ended up throwing down his gun and walking out with his hands up.” Russ’s mouth twisted. “Full of remorse, I hear.” He pulled his hand away to rub at his face, which looked fatigued. “Did you get any rest from your steady stream of visitors?” Jo asked.
“Tried to. Pretty hard to rest in a hospital, I’m finding out. Can’t wait to get on home.”
“Don’t rush it. What about your family, Russ? Have they been called?” Jo knew Russ had an older brother, somewhere out west.
“Yeah, Scott called and wanted to come. I told him not to. He can’t afford to fly all the way from Seattle at the drop of a hat. Besides, Pam’s due pretty soon. He should be with her.”
Jo nodded. She also knew Russ had been married before, but didn’t ask if there had been any contact with his former wife. He hadn’t talked much about the marriage to Jo, other than it had ended five years ago and had lasted barely four. Jo took her cue from his reticence on the subject, though aware it was not an area she was eager to get into.
There was a brisk knock on the door and a scrub-suited nurse walked in, pushing a cart filled with medical paraphernalia. “Time to do a few things for our lieutenant, here,” she said, taking a quick look at his bandaged shoulder. She turned to Jo. “If you’ll just wait outside?”
Jo stood up. “Actually, I’d better get going. It’s pretty late.”
“What’s happening with that Michicomi case,” Russ asked, glancing suspiciously at the instruments lined up on the cart.
“Oh, not too much,” Jo said, pushing her chair out of the way.
“Franklin arrest anyone yet?”
Jo shook her head, then leaned down to give Russ a good-night kiss, which, while exceedingly pleasant had the additional effect of blocking more questions. She hurried to the door, saying, “Get a good rest toni
ght. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Promise?” Russ asked, leaning around the nurse to see her.
“Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away.”
Jo pulled the door closed behind her thinking that wild horses weren’t exactly what she needed to worry about. Franklin’s deputies showing up with an arrest warrant, however, was a whole different thing. But, she wasn’t going to think about that yet. What she wanted most right then was to head on home and fall into that wonderfully soft, beckoning bed of hers. Russ might be the one pumped full of sleep-inducing pain meds at the moment, but the way Jo felt as she made her way back to the parking lot, she could definitely give him a run for the money on pillow-to-REM speed.
CHAPTER 13
The next morning, shortly after arriving at her shop, Jo spotted the answering machine blinking and pressed play. The voices of Carrie’s two knitting students came on, one after another, and with much hemming and hawing gave convoluted reasons for not being able to come to the class that morning. Jo sighed, and called Carrie.
“You might as well take the morning off,” she said, explaining why.
“Shoot!” Carrie said. “Why don’t I call those two and try to straighten them out?”
“I doubt it would do any good. At this point no one is going to admit they truly believe I’m guilty of murder. But the rumors are probably making them uneasy enough to want to keep their distance. Nothing you say is going to erase that feeling. Only finding the real murderer will do that. Which reminds me, how did it go last night at the diner I sent you to?”
“Well, Ginger’s version of home cooking was more like home freezer to home microwave. We didn’t leave hungry, is the best I can say for it. But we did spot that photographer, Bill Ewing, sitting at the counter. You described him perfectly.”
“Did you get to talk to him?”
“It took a while, but yes, around the time we were ordering desserts – I don’t recommend the apple pie, by the way – Dan managed to catch his attention by bringing up the subject of tobacco barns with the waitress, and how they were disappearing with all the new development. I saw Ewing’s ears perk up when Dan mentioned an old one he knew about that was still standing after many years. Ewing wandered over to ask about its location. He wrote down Dan’s directions. I think he plans to go there tomorrow, if the weather hold out.”
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