A Bead in the Hand (Glass Bead Mystery Series Book 2) (15 page)

“I could show you some other things that might really warm you up,” Ryan said with a sly smile, tugging on the collar of the coat and moving even closer, just inches away.

“Ryan.”

“Ryan,” I said, trying again.

“Sorry, I was getting carried away with some less than respectable thoughts.” He stepped back, abashed. “I couldn’t help myself, you’re just so…”

“So…?”

“Adorable.”

Adorable
?

I’d never been called adorable. The most I’d ever been called was cute, so
adorable
was a step in the right direction.

“Let’s just take a moment here,” I said, pressing my hands to his chest, ready to push him back. He was wearing a flannel shirt, and it was soft and warm. While I loved a man in a uniform, it turns out what I really, really love is a man in a flannel shirt. Surprised to realize this so late in life, I was glad I’d moved to the Pacific Northwest. I certainly would never have found anyone wearing flannel in Florida—except for crazy old guys who lived in the Everglades, and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to date any of them.

“I was heading back to the hotel, but now that you’re here, maybe you can help me get to Club Arigato,” I said, realizing that if I spent much more time in such close proximity to Ryan, I’d find myself running my hands up and down his cozy shirt, and more.

“Of course. But are you sure you don’t want to find someplace quiet? I’ve got a little time before I need to be on duty.”

“We can pick this up again sometime soon,” I said, sliding around him. “Right now, I need to find my friends.” And catch my breath.

“I hope we can,” he said. “Now, Club Arigato, it’s down here a couple blocks.”

• • •

Without Ryan, it would have been nearly impossible to find Club Arigato. A tiny sign hung above the door:
Arigato
.

Inside, it wasn’t hard to locate my friends. They were the only ones there.

“You’re going to stay?” I asked Ryan.

“I’m not working until midnight. I have time to hang out before I start my shift. No alcohol for me, though.”

“Sounds good.” I could do enough drinking for the both of us.

We found seats next to Tessa, who was sipping sake from a tiny white cup. Ryan pulled a chair up close to me.

“Did you eat?” I asked Tessa.

“Some tempura and California rolls.”

When the waitress came, I ordered another round of sake for Tessa and me to share, plus an order of sashimi, and a green tea for Ryan.

“Tessa, have you ever met a beadmaker with green hair?”

“No. Have you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, a little while ago. When I was at the Saturday Market, I saw a woman who was wearing a bead just like one of Saundra’s. I’ve never seen her before, and when I tried talking to her, she ran away,” I said. “She’s either a beadmaker who is copying Saundra’s designs and making her own beads, or she’s stolen some of Saundra’s beads and is selling them.”

“That’s strange, but green hair doesn’t help. You know, she could have green hair this week, and next week she could have purple hair. Do you have anything else to go on?”

“Nothing. I don’t even know her name. She didn’t seem too happy when I asked her about the bead she was wearing. That’s when she ran for it.”

The music started up, and the lights dimmed. The disco ball sparkled to life. At the front of the room, a man in a cheap tuxedo grabbed a microphone.

“Laaadies and gentlemennnn, welcome to Club Arigato’s world-famous karaoke party,” the man shouted in a smooth, overly-modulated voice, as he tilted the mic forward with both hands.

Tessa and I rolled our eyes.

“I’m DJ Dan, your host for this night of special singers. And I want you and you and you,” he was now pointing out each of us individually, “to be ready to come up here and give us a performance that will make you proud.” Tessa and I looked down at our drinks. It was a technique we’d used in high school math class. We’d focus on our desktops so we didn’t make eye contact with the teacher, with the hope she’d not choose us to answer questions. I hoped this situation would be the same—if we didn’t make eye contact with DJ Dan, he wouldn’t call us up to perform.

“Fiiiirst up is Adrianaaaaa. Let’s give it up for this super special lady!”

Adriana started things off with a karaoke classic: “Wind Beneath My Wings.” I never liked that song, but I really hated it when Adriana sang it. It turns out that even though she liked singing in public, it didn’t mean she was good at it. She warbled like Gumdrop when it was past his dinnertime.

Vance was up next with “Piano Man” by Billy Joel. I wasn’t expecting much, but the guy really knew how to sing. He belted that song out. How was that possible? Vance was just full of surprises. Nobody really knew much about him. Who knew what else he was capable of?

“Do you think Vance could have killed Saundra?” I asked Tessa while we watched him perform. I grabbed a handful of wasabi peanuts and popped a few in my mouth.

“What makes Vance suspicious?” Ryan asked.

“His room is full of torture gear,” I said. Ryan’s eyes were wide with surprise. “He was only at the bar for a little while that first night. He had plenty of time to find Saundra in the showroom and knock her off.”

“All of us had the opportunity to kill Saundra—each of us had periods of time that night that were unaccounted for. Except me. I was with Adriana. Anyone else could have killed her,” Tessa said.

“Anyone?” asked Ryan.

“It’s hypothetical. It’s nearly impossible to rule out anyone based on where they were when Saundra was murdered.”

“Maybe Vance knew Saundra from a past bead sale,” I said, ignoring Tessa’s hypothesis, my focus still on Vance. “Maybe he only decided to come to the show to confront her.”

“He’d never been to any other bead sales, remember? Maybe he’s just a man who is a little shy and decided to finally face his fear of being in public and signed up to sell beads at a bazaar.” Tessa was always so level-headed; she reined in my wild imagination.

The Twins sang next: “Girlfriend in a Coma” by The Smiths. The song started with a light guitar riff before swinging into lyrics about murder and strangulation, which was disturbing, to say the least, after my awful experience with a dead body the day before. The Twins sang in an oddly harmonic and creepy style, perfect for the song. Tessa was looking down into her empty sake cup, likely trying to decide whether to fill it up again. I couldn’t tell if she was paying attention to the song’s dark message.

“Tessa,” I whispered, hoping she was listening to the lyrics. “They’re singing about killing someone.” I received no response from her.

To get her attention, I elbowed Tessa a little harder than I meant to—so hard she almost fell out of her seat.

“Ow!” Everyone looked over at Tessa. “Ohhh! Woo! Woo!” she corrected, as she starting clapping, trying to make her pain look like an exclamation of approval for the song.

“I didn’t deserve that,” Tessa said, pouring the last of the sake into her cup.

“Sorry—do you think it was The Twins? Could they have murdered Saundra?”

“I think you have murder on the brain. Just try to enjoy the show and watch our friends making fools of themselves, okay?”

I turned to Ryan. “Are you going to sing?” I asked.

“No, I’m not much of a singer. But I’m enjoying watching everyone perform.”

“Me, too.”

“And I’m enjoying being here with you,” he said, scooting his chair a little closer to mine.

“Me, too,” I said as I leaned toward him. He put his arm around me.

Next up was Lin, who quietly took the stage. She whispered her music selection to the DJ, and the music started. Lin shouted the lyrics to “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar while wildly jumping up and down to the beat. We were shocked by her rendition.

Vance was sitting in front of me. I tapped him on the shoulder and gestured wildly, trying to say, “I’m surprised,” “I’m shocked,” and “I’m impressed” all at once.

He smiled enigmatically and said only, “Oh yes, Lin’s unpredictable.”

I didn’t think she would be so outrageous on stage, or in the bedroom, but then again, looks can be deceiving. I’d learned that when I discovered all the scary costumes and bondage gear in the hotel room she shared with Vance.

When Lin’s song ended, she politely curtsied and left the stage, taking her seat next to Vance.

“Jax, I’ve got to hit the road,” Ryan said.

“You’re really not going to sing?”

“No time. Maybe I can sing for you some other time, in private.”

“I’ll stop by the ballroom a little later.”

“Just as long as you don’t want in,” he added, joking.

“Ryan, do you mind if I come with you?” Tessa asked. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.” She’d also had a few cups of sake and was getting sleepy from the alcohol, I expected.

“Sure,” said Ryan. “Any friend of Jax’s is a friend of mine.” I watched as Tessa, my oldest friend, headed out the door with my newest friend. I hoped I’d be getting much friendlier with Ryan soon.

“How about you, Jax? Are you going to sing for us?” Adriana asked.

“Oh, no. I’m not allowed to sing in public.” It was true. Val had banned me from singing, except in the shower or to sing “Happy Birthday,” ever since I’d tried karaoke at her salon’s holiday party. Maybe it was the three glasses of heavily-spiked eggnog that made me sound so terrible. Probably not.

Miles came in a little while later. His over-sized messenger bag was slung over his shoulder, the head of a ukulele case sticking out of the top corner of the bag.

He pulled his ukulele case from his bag, flipped up the square metal clasp to open the lid, and pulled out the tiny guitar. He told DJ Dan he didn’t need any accompaniment. And with that, he sat down on the edge of the small stage, with the disco ball spraying silver spots of lights in circles above our heads, and played the most incredible version of “Hotel California” on his tiny instrument. When he was done, we all jumped up and applauded.

“Miles—that was outstanding. I had no idea you were so talented. What an impressive performance. I love that song,” I said, still clapping.

“It was supposed to be ironic,” Miles said.

“I think it was way more than ironic…it was iconic,” I said.

“Encore!” we all shouted.

“Stairway to Heaven” never sounded better than when Miles played it on the uke.

TWENTY-ONE

“THE RED ROSE HOTEL,”
I told the taxi driver. I didn’t want to spend any more time wandering the streets of Portland late at night. With my dead phone and no GPS, I doubted I could have found my way back to the hotel, or anywhere else for that matter.

I took the elevator—still oddly cold inside—up to our floor, making sure I got off at floor six and not floor five. Tessa was walking toward me, her face streaked with tears. I ran to her and hugged her tight.

“Tessa! Sweetie! What happened?” I asked. “Is something going on with the girls? Are they okay? Joey? Craig? Everyone’s okay?”

“I…they…someone…a mess…how,” Tessa said without making a bit of sense.

“I’m sorry, Tessa, I just don’t understand. Try again, one word at a time.” She grabbed my hand and turned, pulling me down the hall.

“Our…room…” Tessa pushed hard on the door. Inside, our room looked like a tornado had hit it.

“What happened?” I felt a small guilty twinge, wondering if the scary maid I’d encountered outside Saundra’s room had discovered which room was mine and decided to seek revenge. Gumdrop was in this room somewhere, probably scared to death. At least I hoped he was still in there.

“I don’t know what happened. I came back to the room after karaoke and opened the door, and it was like this,” said Tessa. “I didn’t want to go in and mess it up in case there were fingerprints or something.”

“So you decided to stand around in the hall, until
what
happened?”

“I called the front desk and told them our room was a mess. They offered to send up housekeeping, but I didn’t think that was appropriate,” Tessa said. “I called you ten times—you never answered. I sat here, waiting for you to get one of my messages, and trying to figure out how to find Ryan or the detective. Then I thought I should just go back downstairs…”

“I’m sorry, my phone was dead. I forgot to charge it.”

Tessa wiped the tears off her nose with her sleeve. She would have scolded one of her children if they had done the same.

The elevator doors opened. Ryan sprinted down the hall toward us.

“I heard someone at the front desk say there was a problem in your room. What happened?”

Tessa waved a hand toward the doorway of our wrecked room.

Ryan peered into the room and exhaled a long low whistle. “That’s a mess. I wonder what the person who did this was looking for.”

“A clue? Money? I don’t have either,” I said.

“This has been a terrible night. I found one of the guards, Carl Shulman, during my security check. He was in the stairwell, his head cracked open, blood everywhere,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “Based on the way we found him, he may have been pushed, but the medical examiner will make that determination in the next few days.”

I gasped. “You mean he’s dead? What was he doing in the stairwell?”

“Carl wasn’t very reliable, and he sometimes abandoned his post. It’s possible he was coming back from a guest’s room. I don’t know what he was doing or why he’s dead, but I intend to find out. He was a good guy, and his family deserves to know what happened.”

“Do you have anything that could point to who might have killed him?”

“I found a bead-shaped plastic keychain with the words
Bead Fun
printed on it next to him on the stairs,” Ryan said.

“Can I see it?” I asked, wondering if it was the one I’d seen in Sal’s RV.

“I’ve already given it to Tiff—uh, I mean Detective Houston,” Ryan said.

TWENTY-TWO

“IT MUST BE SAL’S KEYCHAIN,”
I said.

“It’s a keychain that Sal made. There could be any number of people who have one. It’s just a cheap promotional item,” Tessa said.

“It might be a clue—maybe Sal pushed the guy down the stairs,” I said.