Death Among the Doilies (11 page)

“I have to go,” Jane said, after making her way over to Cora, who was deep in conversation with Jennifer, a woman who owned a yarn shop in Pennsylvania and whose husband had recently passed away after an extended battle with cancer. She really needed this retreat. Her daughters had given it to her as a surprise.

“Babysitter?” Cora said to Jane.

Jane nodded.

“It is getting late, ladies, I'm off to bed,” Jennifer said. But several of the other guests sidetracked her with questions about yarn.

Jane left, and Cora began searching for Cashel. She found him and Jude in the kitchen, each with a bottle of beer.

Cashel looked up at her. “Are you ready for me?” He said and winked. Jude laughed.

“As ready as I'll ever be,” she said and grabbed his arm, as if to pull him along.

“Do you have the gun?” Cashel asked as they exited the house.

She nodded.

It was only a little after nine
PM
, but Cora still felt a little odd about visiting this time of night, especially with a gun in her purse. But it was the only place to keep it. Cashel wore a sweater, no jacket, and the gun certainly would not fit in the back pocket of his jeans. They walked off together down the nearly empty streets of Indigo Gap. The historically accurate streetlights helped light the way.

“This gun is surely a collectible,” Cora said. “Sarah had so many interesting collections.”

“Yes, I read about that in the newspaper. The auction listed everything. I can't believe people collect and pay for brooms,” Cashel responded.

“People collect anything you can imagine. But I'm the opposite of a collector.”

“Wait a minute,” he said and stopped at the corner. The lights fell along the lines of his face in an interesting way. His eyes glowed. “Who had doilies all over her bed today?”

“I can see why you'd think that I collected those,” she said and laughed a little. “But what I'm doing is repurposing them. I haven't made up my mind yet what I'll make with them, but that's one of my things. Taking something old and repurposing it.”

“Interesting. You're kind of doing that with my mother too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before you bought the place, well, she was a bit of a hermit. You've made her feel like her knowledge is appreciated,” he said. “Thanks for that.” He sort of leaned in to her, and suddenly she saw Ruby's face in his and backed away from him. Was he going to kiss her?

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

Cora decided they should keep moving down the lane and started walking with more purpose toward the Waterses' home. Cashel followed close behind. As the house came into view, she was pleased to find the lights on, which meant that Josh was still awake.

They walked up the sidewalk to the front-door stoop and rang the doorbell. As Cora leaned against the outer edge of the door and waited for Josh to open it, she noticed a crack of light between the door and the frame. The door had not been properly closed. She pushed on it slightly and it opened fully.

“That's odd,” Cashel said. “Leaving the door open like that.”

“Mr. Waters?” Cora said. “Are you in there?”

“Waters?” Cashel echoed.

The two of them entered the house and both called out for him again.

Items were strewn about haphazardly—pillows, Tupperware, clothing. But as Cora walked over to the tables, where all the garage-sale items had been, she noticed that a good deal of it had apparently been sold.

But something was wrong.

Maybe she should just sit the gun on the table and leave the house. Maybe Josh was in the bathroom. Or taking a shower. She didn't want to disturb him. A sudden overwhelming sense of discomfort came over her. Her skin pricked. She shouldn't be here; she was intruding. Yet, he had left the door open.

She turned and faced Cashel. She reached into her purse to pull out the gun. “I'm just going to leave it here,” she said. And then she noticed the tennis shoe.

It was sticking out from under one of the tables—and it was attached to something. Or someone.

“Cashel—” she said and nodded in the direction of the shoe. “Is that—?”

Cashel rushed forward and kneeled down. His hands went to his face as he stood. His normally peachy skin tone was now ghostly pale. He took an audible deep gulp of air.

“Are you okay?” she said, rushing to his side.

Cashel shook his head. “Call 9-1-1.”

She reached for her cell phone, and leaned down to get a view of why she was calling the police.

At first she saw something red and lacy, but she blinked her eyes and saw the blood-soaked doilies—lying all around and on top of Josh Waters. A huge blade was lodged in his crumpled and very bloody body.

Cora dropped her phone, her purse, and the little gun. The last thing she remembered was the sound of the items as they crashed to the hardwood floor. Then everything went black.

When she came to, she was on a couch in another room. She woke up confused and bruised. Did she land on her left arm? It hurt like hell. Where was she? What had happened? As her mind caught up to where her body was positioned, a paramedic walked into the room with a glass of water.

“Okay,” the paramedic said. “Let's get you sitting up and drinking some water.”

“What happened?” Cora managed to say.

“You passed out. Which is a typical reaction to finding a body covered in blood,” she said cheerfully. “Perfectly normal response.”

“Oh yes. Poor Josh Waters. Oh my God, what happened to him?” Her brain was moving in slow motion. How much time had lapsed?

“I'm okay,” Cora said. The room finally stopped spinning. Cashel sat next to her on the couch.

“This is Cashel,” Cora told the paramedic, who looked questioningly at her.

“What happened?” asked another paramedic.

“Not much,” Cora said. “I passed out because I ran into a dead body surrounded by bloody doilies.”

“We shouldn't have come,” Cashel said.

“Look, I didn't want that thing in my house. I wanted to return it,” Cora said. “I guess it's kind of a good thing that we came. He could have been lying there for days if we hadn't happened on him, poor guy.”

“What is your full name, please?” the paramedic whose name tag read “Joy” said.

Cora glanced at Joy, then Cashel.

“I'd rather not give it,” Cora said.

“Nothing is worse than Cashel,” Cashel said.

“I need your full name, please,” the paramedic said.

“Coralie Yves Chevalier,” Cora said, begrudgingly.

Cashel's eyes met hers. “That's a lovely name,” he said.

“So is Cashel,” she said.

“It's the name of my mom's grandmother's hometown in Ireland,” he said. “It's where I was conceived.”

Was it strange that Cora knew two people who named their children after places they were conceived? Maybe she knew more. There was Brooklyn—yes, that's right. Were there any others?

“The police want to talk with you, of course,” the paramedic said, ignoring their conversation. Joy was all business. “Are you up for that?”

“What?” Cora managed to say, as her brain was too busy thinking of names.

“Can you answer some questions for the police?” Joy said.

“Certainly,” Cora said.

Joy left the room to fetch the police officers.

“So much for peaceful small-town living, heh?” Cashel said.

“So much for my number one murder suspect. He's now dead,” Cora replied.

Cashel and Joy escorted Cora outside for some fresh air. With all of the frenzied activity in the house, the air inside was stifling. Cora realized that this fresh air was just what she needed. Joy and Cashel stood with their heads together, examining a form. Cora spotted a white card in the grass, just off to the side of the front-door stoop. She bent over to pick it up and read the text, J
UDE
S
AWYER
, M
ASTER
B
ROOM
M
AKER
. Cora stood and felt a little dizzy. As she swayed, she stuck the card in her pocket.

“Whoa!” Cashel said, coming to her rescue.

“There's something I have to show you,” Cora whispered.

But just then an officer walked over to them.

“Twice in one day,” Office Glass said, spotting Cora. “How are you feeling?”

Cora shrugged.

“Are you up for a few questions?” Officer Glass said, leading them back inside the house.

“Yes, sure,” Cora said, but she wasn't certain. Things were still a bit blurry.

“Why did you come here tonight?”

“I came to return a gun that I found in a box of doilies I purchased.”

He smirked. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I do,” she said. Damn, her head hurt. “Did I hit my head on something?”

“Cashel?” Glass asked.

“Yes, I think she hit her head when she went down,” Cashel said.

“Are you okay to answer questions?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Now, Ms. Chevalier,” Officer Glass went on. “How did you come into the house?”

“The door was open.”

“I just told you that,” Cashel said, with a slight irritation in his voice.

“You know the procedure, Mr. O'Malley,” Glass said and then turned back to Cora. “You mean wide open?” he persisted.

“No, I went to knock on it and when I knocked the door opened farther. You know, it wasn't closed completely.”

“Why would you walk into someone's house?”

“Well, I had been there yesterday and was aware of the yard sale. I guess I was thinking it was still going on. Look, all I know is I wanted to return the gun. I didn't want it in my house,” she said.

He nodded. “Understood.” He glanced at Cashel. “We'll be in touch with more questions.” He turned to walk out of the room, then turned back. “By the way, the guys at the station loved your muffins,” he said.

“Great,” Cora said.

“What did your muffin bribery get you?” Cashel asked, after Glass left the room.

“Not much. He's supposed to be checking into a few things for me. Is it okay to leave? I mean, I have a house full of guests. Does this mean Jane's off the hook?” Cora asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, everybody knows where she is,” she said stiffly. “Not here. She's at the retreat.”

“You're still not thinking clearly. We don't know if both murders were committed by the same person,” he said. “But don't worry. It will be okay. She does, at least, have a great alibi for tonight.”

Which reminded Cora that she still didn't know where Jane was the night of Sarah Waters' murder. She never told her. Had she told Cashel? How could she ask her without sounding like she suspected her?

“You said you had something to show me,” Cashel said.

Cora, still woozy, but gaining her strength, pulled out a card from her pocket. “I found this near the front door. I'm surprised you didn't see it.”

“What is it?” Cashel said.

She held it up for him to see. “It's Jude's business card.”

They stood in silence.

This meant that Jude must have been in the house sometime before Cora and Cashel. But when? Did he visit Josh to discuss the brooms? The card looked relatively untouched, not worn, as it would if it had been lying around in the elements from whenever he had purchased the broom collection.

“We need to find out what he was doing here,” Cashel said.

“You don't think that . . .” Cora said.

“I have no idea what to think,” Cashel said. “I think we need to turn this over to the police.”

“No!” Cora said. “They will bring him in to question, right? He's supposed to be teaching a class for me tomorrow. And besides, we know he didn't kill Josh. Right?”

“If we keep this to ourselves, we are withholding evidence—evidence that could exonerate Jane.”

But it could only exonerate her if Jude was the killer,
Cora thought.
And Jude Sawyer was no killer. He was an artist and a craftsman.
“I'm certain he was just here to clear up his purchase of the brooms. One of the sisters wanted them back.”

A different officer entered the room. “We're going to ask that when you leave, you go out the back door. Technicians are working on the front door.”

“You might want to take a look at this,” Cashel said, holding up the card. “Cora found this on her way in.”

“Wait a minute,” Officer Shimer said. “Where did you find this?”

“Out front, in the grass, near the door,” Cora said.

“Okay, thanks,” the officer said and nodded. “We'll be in touch.”

“What?” Cashel said, noticing Cora's glares. “Look, I'm a lawyer. I'm working to exonerate Jane. I have an obligation—”

“Save it,” Cora said. “We'll deal with it. We'll move Ruby up on the schedule tomorrow. Or something.”

“They are just going to question him, ask him why he was here. It doesn't mean he won't be able to teach tomorrow,” Cashel said. “I know what he told you about his purchase of the brooms, but he could be spinning a tale.”

Cora was a bit miffed and feeling a little like a bag in the wind that Cashel was blowing around. Her brain was foggy from everything she'd seen and felt that night. She'd taken quite a knock on the head. As the cold October air hit her skin when she stepped outside, she took a few deep inhalations. It was as if the night air slapped some sense into her. Of course Cashel was right. He absolutely was compelled by his duty to turn that card over to the law. Cora's duty was to warn Jude so that he could take matters into his own hands.