To Bead or Not to Bead, Glass Bead Mystery Series, Book 4

by Janice Peacock

  Mr. Chu might have been a grumpy old man, but I knew deep down inside he was a sweetheart.

  SEVEN

  With the package from Mr. Chu containing the faux-amber necklace tucked safely into my handbag, I walked back to the vet’s office but hesitated by the door. Since they wouldn’t have any test results yet, I knew it was useless to check in.

  I got in my car and flipped down the sun visor, then opened its mirror to check for any spider webs that might have stuck to my hair while I was down in the Underground. While I liked to believe there was no real reason why I was afraid of dark, spooky places, the truth was I’d experienced a traumatic event as a kid, and I still hadn’t completely recovered. Memories of the childhood incident that caused my fear of spiders came rushing back.

  • • •

  My brother Andy, sister Connie, and I had a pretty normal childhood growing up in Miami. Long before Andy was born, our mother would throw Connie and me outside to play, especially when the weather was balmy. One of our favorite games was hide and seek. I remember once hiding in what I considered the very best spot of all—in our family’s hurricane shelter. Living in Florida, we had to be prepared for tropical storms, and my dad had built a small hurricane shelter beneath our house for that eventuality. The door to the shelter was outside of the house, below the kitchen window. Usually the door was locked, but for some reason, it was unlocked that day. I seem to recall my dad had been restocking some of the supplies around that time and may have simply forgotten to lock up when he was finished.

  Opening the door just far enough to accommodate my six-year-old self, I slipped inside. I’d never been in the shelter before, at least that I remembered. My mother had talked about using it for a Category Five storm when I was a baby, but I didn’t remember that, of course.

  As I hid in the dark, I waited for my sister to find my superb hiding spot. I waited, and waited, and waited. And she never came. It was dark in the shelter and while I was pretty sure there was a light somewhere down there, I didn’t want to explore too much. My imagination started to take over. There were some webs here and there, but my young brain kicked into overdrive and I convinced myself that the cramped space was home to thousands of spiders that were crawling up my legs and arms. I was so freaked out I gave up on hiding and pushed on the door to open it. But it wouldn’t budge. I tried and tried to open the door. In a panic, with my heart racing, I flung myself against the door over and over, bruising my shoulder. Finally giving up, I sat on the top step crying, certain no one would ever find me alive. I convinced myself I’d be wound up in webs and eaten by spiders.

  When my mother wrenched open the shelter door a few minutes before dinner, I was certain she would be relieved to find me, uneaten by the monster spiders, which of course, had grown in my imagination the longer I sat in the shelter. Instead of sweeping me into her arms, relieved to find me, she yanked me out of the shelter, scolded me for having gone in there in the first place, and sent me off to take a bath, which I was relieved to do. I wanted nothing more than to get the spider webs off my head.

  • • •

  My next stop was Rosie Paredes’ bead shop. Aztec Beads was located in the middle of Wallingford, one of the hipper neighborhoods in Seattle. The building was painted vibrant red, with a sign at the corner that had the image of an Aztec figure lying on his back holding a full tray of beads aloft, as if making an offering to the gods. It was Tessa’s and my favorite bead shop, though Rosie wasn’t always the most pleasant person to deal with.

  “Hi, Rosie,” I said, entering the shop to find her stocking tiny vials of seed beads into a display by the cash register.

  “Look, I know why you’re here and the answer is no,” Rosie said, pushing her pudgy hand at me in the universal palm-out sign for STOP as I came in the door.

  “How could you possibly know?”

  “Frankie Lawton, that’s how. He called me and said someone would be coming by and groveling for some jewelry for that fashion show, and it would be in my best interest to say no.”

  “Why would he do that? I don’t get it. I don’t even understand why he left.”

  “Jax, you don’t want to get involved with those Greers. I know they do a lot of good in the community, but there’s more there than meets the eye. You can’t trust them. Trust me.”

  “Mr. Greer was a little odd, maybe. But I don’t—”

  “Look, you’ve just got to trust me on this one. I trust Frankie, I’ve known him for years. If he says it’s too dangerous, it’s way too dangerous.” Frankie was, in my opinion, a giant pain in the butt, so it was difficult for me to consider much of anything he said as valid.

  As if to punctuate Rosie’s warning, her little Chihuahua-wolverine mutt, Tito, ran up to me and started barking and snapping at my sneakers. The little black and white dog’s bulging eyes glared at me with a fierce intensity that told me his bite just might be worse than his bark. I flicked my foot at him, and the dog backed off, growling as he did. I swear I didn’t kick him.

  “Okay, thanks for the heads-up,” I said, dancing out the door to avoid Tito as he advanced again, nipping at my heels. Back inside the Ladybug, I called Tessa.

  “I just had the oddest conversation with Rosie. Why would Frankie think the Greers were dangerous?”

  “No idea.”

  “So, what do you think? Is it too dangerous for you to be there, especially with your girls?”

  “There haven’t been any more falling chandeliers, so that’s good news.”

  “What an awful thought,” I said, thinking about how horrible it would be to die that way.

  “How’s it going with the necklace treasure hunt?” Tessa asked.

  “I’ve made a little progress. I’ve got two necklaces I made and one from Mr. Chu. But Rosie turned me down cold. Apparently, Frankie Lawton warned her to stay away from the whole mess.”

  “That’s strange, don’t you think?” Tessa asked.

  “A little, but then, Frankie is a little strange.”

  Tessa laughed, which was good to hear for a change. This event was taking its toll on her, especially now that we didn’t have Austin or Frankie to ride roughshod over everyone.

  “Uh-oh. I think we’ve got trouble.” Tessa’s voice was suddenly taut with anxiety.

  “Trouble? What kind of trouble?” I asked, as I started the Ladybug and got ready to roll.

  “You need to get over here. Right now.” Tessa hung up the phone.

  I sped to the theater. As I entered the backstage, I saw Zachary sitting in the wings with Tessa’s daughters and the other models. All the girls were crying and Zachary looked uncomfortable as he scribbled in his notebook, trying not to make eye contact with them. Tessa was staring fiercely at Zachary as she stood behind the girls. I was sure he had made her daughters and their friends cry. I wanted to stay out of Zachary’s way, and I thought it best to let him interview the girls without being distracted by me. Tessa spotted me and gave me a tiny wave, but I just kept moving. I cut across the stage and found Daniel Owens backstage fussing with the lamp I’d given him.

  “Hi, Daniel, how are you doing?”

  Daniel looked up at me from where he was crouching as he attached wheels to my former light fixture.

  “As good as can be expected. Thanks for the lamp. It’s going to work perfectly as our new ghost light. Although we might not need it for long. We may have to close our doors for good now that we don’t have Austin,” Daniel said, as he screwed a new light bulb into the fixture.

  “It seems like Tessa’s got things under control with the fashion show and auction. Is everything going okay with Hamlet? That’s on track, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but Austin usually looked at the books right around this time of the month and made a donation if we were having a cash flow problem. We don’t always stay afloat with just our ticket sales. With him gone, I’m not sure what w
e’ll do.” Daniel stood up and swiveled the lamp around on its new wheels, admiring his work.

  “I wish there was something else I could do for you. Did HAT owe the theater money for the rental that might help you make ends meet? I could talk with Jaya—”

  “No, Austin gave them the rental for free. He did that a lot. I don’t think he had a good head for money.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I spotted Zachary crossing the stage, having finished his interrogation of the teens. “Excuse me, I need to talk to that detective.” I trotted toward Zachary.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing,” I said.

  “I’m investigating a homicide, which is my job. You, on the other hand, said you were going to stay far away from this investigation.”

  “I am, but I’m still a volunteer for the gala. And, you’ll notice I didn’t get anywhere near you when you were interviewing the girls.”

  “I appreciate that, but your presence here doesn’t make it any easier for me to do my job.” Zachary’s mood seemed especially dark, It was time to distract him the only way I knew how, at least in public.

  “Come on, let’s go get a cup of coffee. My treat.” I grabbed Zachary’s hand and we headed out the door to the Starbucks across Yesler Square from the theater. Once we were out in the sunshine Zachary’s mood improved, and he seemed to loosen up a bit. I bought us each a coffee and we found a seat on a bench in the shade of one of the maples in the square.

  “So…” I started slowly. “How did it go with the girls?”

  Zachary sighed and looked into his cup.

  “The girls were impossible. I questioned them, and they were almost entirely unwilling to speak. All they did is cry. They didn’t answer a single question, except for Izzy. She seems to have become their spokesgirl.”

  “And what did she have to say?” I asked.

  “She didn’t have one nice thing to say about Austin Greer.”

  “Not too surprising.”

  “Why do you say that?” Zachary said, looking me in the eye, truly curious about what secret knowledge I held that he was clueless about.

  “Two things: First, how much time have you spent around teen girls?”

  “Not much. You know I was an only child. And I didn’t really date in high school, or really ever.”

  “Okay, well, teen girls can be overly emotional, sullen, flighty, and verbose—all in the span of five minutes. I’m sure they were scared, talking with you, and they just shut down.”

  “You said two things. What’s the other?”

  “Did you ever meet Austin Greer? Because if you did, you’d know he was an odd bird, and in the short amount of time I was with him, he was rude, bossy, and at times unpleasant. I know those are not good reasons to kill someone, but it is why you’re not hearing anything positive from the teens.”

  “Well, the girls not talking to me is not great for them. It certainly means we have to consider them as suspects until they can explain themselves.”

  “You can’t be serious. They’re just kids.”

  “That’s the problem. None of the kids liked this man, and when someone turns up dead, we have to look around at the most obvious suspects. And it’s not only Izzy and Ashley, it’s all the girls who are part of this event. I’m afraid they’re all considered suspects.”

  “Five high school girls?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Would it help if I talked with them? You could even be with me when it happened. All those girls know me. Maybe they’d be willing to open up. That would help, right?”

  “Jax, I don’t know how to say this, but I don’t need your help.” He reached out to take my hand. “Please understand.”

  “You know what? That’s just fine.” I stood up. I was done with this conversation. “I don’t need to be involved in this case. You’ve got it handled. You don’t need me. Right?”

  “Right.”

  And that was it. I swallowed hard and walked away. Angry and sad at the same time, I got in my car and drove home. My head and my heart ached. He didn’t need me. And what did I need? Right then, I needed some chocolate.

  EIGHT

  Entering the back door of my house, I instinctively looked around the studio for Gumdrop. Remembering he was still at the vet’s office, I gave Dr. Brown a call.

  “Ah, yes, Gumdrop. He’s doing well. We haven’t gotten any of our lab results back yet, but we’ve given him some fluids, and he is perking up nicely,” Buff Brown said with a slow drawl.

  “Can I come get him and bring him home?”

  “I think so. No harm in him being home. Oh, I noticed from your paperwork that you live in the Queen Anne District. I’m on my way home and could easily drop him off. Would that be okay with you?”

  “Oh, I, of course,” I said, stunned the vet would be willing to bring Gummie back to me.

  After hanging up with the vet, I made a cup of coffee and sat on my sofa and thought about my conversation with Zachary. I was upset with him, of course, but I was upset with myself, as well. I’d offered my help to him, after telling him I was going to stay away from the investigation, and he’d refused it. Even though I’d had some success in the past solving murder cases, I needed to remember it wasn’t my job. I wasn’t sure why I needed to seek justice when someone died at the hands of a killer, but it was important to me. It was a way I could bring order to the world, in a small way. And this was a big, messy world, one I’d never make sense of. All this deep thinking was making me blue, so I did the one thing that always cheered me up. I went to see Val. It occurred to me that I could invite her to my house so I could introduce her to Dr. Brown, if she was willing. And Val was always willing to meet a new man.

  “Jax, shweetie!” Val slurred, swinging the door open wide. “Come on in!”

  “Are you day drinking?” I asked, since Val seemed to be acting crazier than usual.

  “No—I mean—yes. But not enough to be drunk, at least not yet. I want you to meet my friend Rudy.”

  “Yes, I’ve met Rudy several times. He painted my kitchen, remember? He worked on Tessa’s house. He’s your sci-fi buddy.” Rudy waved from his perch on Val’s bright pink sofa. A Star Wars film was playing on the television, the volume turned up a little too loud.

  “We’ve been playing a drinking game. So far, Rudy’s winning,” Val said, stumbling over and whacking him on the knee with her open palm, nearly falling off her shiny blue stilettos. Val was in no condition to meet anyone. She was absolutely snockered.

  “You going to join us, Jax? We’re still on the first movie. That’s episode four, but it was the first movie. It’s one of the best. Because, you know, episode one, it was horrible—it had the stupid Jar Jar Binks character. There’s still time for you to play,” Val said, as Rudy poured another drink into the shot glass in her outstretched hand.

  “What are you playing?”

  “May the Fourth,” Val slurred.

  “No, it’s May the Force,” Rudy said.

  “No, today’s date, it’s May the Fourth. It’s the game you play today. It’s the Star Wars drinking game. We’re not entirely sure how to win—maybe whoever doesn’t pass out wins,” Val said.

  “I thought you were on the Werewolf Diet. Weren’t you supposed to only drink clear liquids today?”

  “Yes. And here’s the thing: Vodka is a clear liquid. So strictly speaking, I am working within the guidelines of the diet. Besides, what do werewolves really know about losing weight?”

  I had no idea how to respond to any number of the assertions Val had made. Rudy looked over at us, puzzled, then downed another shot of liquor.

  “How do you even play this silly game?” I asked.

  “See, what you do is, when someone says something like, ‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ we take a drink,
” Val said, filling her glass with vodka and tossing it back to demonstrate. “Woo!” She shook her head and stumbled before steading herself on the back of the sofa.

  “You know, I’d love to stay, but I can see you are both pretty busy, and I don’t want to intrude,” I said, heading for the door. Stanley, Val’s basset hound, bounded after me. The poor dog seemed a bit frantic, with all the noise from the movie and Val and Rudy being pretty loud themselves. “I’m taking Stanley with me.”

  “Okay, sweet cheeks,” Val said, plopping herself down on the sofa next to Rudy while he filled their glasses again. I’d have to do my matchmaking between Val and Dr. Brown some other day.

  Grabbing Stanley by the collar, I opened Val’s front door. As I made a U-turn back into my house, I spotted Dr. Brown cruising down the street on a Harley with an unusual sidecar attached to it. He parked it at the curb in front of my duplex.

  I stood there, my mouth gaping.

  “Wow. Nice motorcycle—is that custom?”

  “I’ve been working on it for a while. This way I can make house calls in style,” Dr. Brown said, grinning with pride. He unlocked the carrier from the sidecar and pulled it out. “And Gumdrop here didn’t seem to mind a bit.”

  I peered into the carrier. Gumdrop, who was a notoriously bad traveler, seemed to be having a fine time despite looking a little windblown around the edges. Usually he’d howl anytime I had to take him in the car. Instead, it sounded like he was purring. I’d have to remember that the next time I took him for a ride—perhaps I could leave the top down in the Ladybug to give him a feeling of wide open spaces and wind rushing through his fur.

  “Let’s get my biker-cat inside,” I said with a giggle.

  Dr. Brown, carrying Gumdrop in his carrier, followed me inside, while I parked Stanley next to the kitchen table.