Death Among the Doilies (14 page)

Ruby's garden cottage sat on the very back edge of the property in a glade of what at first appeared to be shrubs or weeds with specks of color, which upon closer view were revealed as dying flowers. It was the fall, after all. During the spring and summer, it was another matter; Ruby loved to educate guests about the herbs that surrounded her stone cottage. The rock pathway to the front door was lined in marigolds—a bit of order in a chaotic, but still somehow charming, garden.

The “simple” candle-making class was in full swing when Cora and Jane slipped in the door to watch Ruby in action. They were both a little more lighthearted after having a glass of wine together.

“This is fun and easy,” Ruby said. “For those of you who don't want to make candles from scratch. We'll be making candles from scratch tomorrow afternoon.” She held up a sheet of cream-colored beeswax. “But for tonight, you are going to roll this around a candle wick, basically. We've added a little creative element in that you have some herbs to sprinkle on your sheet. So when the candle burns, you'll smell the herbs. Some of them are quite potent—so a little dab will do.

“A few blow-dryers are scattered around the room. Take turns if you must. Just heat up the wax enough to make it pliable.

“Right side down, sprinkle the herbs all over the inside of the sheet,” she said. “Now it's important to know what the qualities of each herb are that you choose. You know some say herbs offer magical qualities.”

Cora's and Jane's eyes met. Ruby was skating a fine line here. They had warned her to go light on the witchy–new age woo-woo stuff because they didn't want to offend anybody.

“You can get into the magic of candle making by getting detailed with the meaning of colors and so on. But since we're focusing on the herbs, I'll tell you a few of the beliefs about some of the herbs here. For creativity, we have lavender,” Ruby said. “For psychic power we have honeysuckle, yarrow, mugwort, and thyme. For protection, rosemary, fennel, and sage. For love, rose, lavender, gardenia. And for money, cinnamon, chamomile, and basil.”

“Pass me the money herbs, please!” Miranda said and laughed.

“I want the love and money herbs,” Diane said.

“Don't we all,” Ruby said, and then fired up her blow-dryer, as the group laughed.

Cora and Jane walked around Ruby's living room, which had become a makeshift classroom. The idea for the small group to meet here was Ruby's. She felt welcoming guests into her home was more intimate. Plus the other retreaters were busy with broom making, knitting, and whatever else they decided to do with their crafty weekend. Cora hoped they were allowing themselves plenty of space and time for reflection and renewal.

The scent of honeysuckle pricked at Cora's nose.

“So, after you've warmed up your sheet, decide if you want to make smaller candles by cutting the sheet, or if you want to keep them long. Then sprinkle your herbs on it. Cut your wick to be slightly longer than the length of your candle and wrap your wax around it.

“If you want, cut a diagonal from the top left-hand corner of the sheet to about halfway down the center of the right-hand side and tightly roll up the beeswax, so the candle becomes tiered as it takes shape. Experiment with different angles of the diagonal, cut to create a variety of tiered beeswax candles.

“Gently press the end of the sheet into the candle to seal it. The idea is to give it as seamless an effect as possible.”

“She's fabulous,” Jane said to Cora.

She nodded in agreement. Ruby was proving to be a wonderful teacher.

Her phone buzzed, and she stepped out of the cottage to answer it.

“Hello,” she said.

“Cora Chevalier?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“This is Officer Ted Glass. Remember how I told you I'd look into things for you?”

“Yes,” she said, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.

“I think you better come down to the station so we can talk.”

Cora looked over at the main house and then at her watch. Did she have time to run down to the station?

“When would be a good time?”

“I'm about ready to go on break in, say, ten minutes. We could grab a cup of coffee and I can tell you what I found out. How does that sound?”

Cora hesitated. She hated to leave the retreat and besides that—coffee with a cop? Why did this not feel right? But, at the same time, she did wonder what he might have found out. They needed to clear Jane of this murder suspicion, and that's all there was to it.

“I'll be right there,” she said. She dashed back inside Ruby's cottage and yanked on Jane's arm.

“What?” Jane said as she followed Cora outside.

“I want you to come with me to the police station,” Cora said.

“What? Why? I'd rather not.”

Cora told her what Officer Glass had said.

“Interesting,” Jane said. “Did I mention to you what Ruby said yesterday? She told me the Waterses' daughter had a horrible drug problem.”

Cora nodded. “That's the same track Officer Glass is on. So are you up for it?”

“I don't know. Is this a good idea? I mean, I am a suspect.”

“Not quite a suspect. A person of interest.” Cora corrected. “Come with me. We'll call Cashel on the way and see what he says. If he says no, you can just wait outside for me.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“I have a weird feeling about this meeting. It's probably nothing. But I'd feel better if you were around.”

“You and your weird feelings,” Jane said and sighed.

“You know they are always right.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Jane said.

Cora and Jane walked together to the police station. Even though there was a bit of a chill in the air and the sun was beginning to lower in the sky, it was a pleasant evening for a walk.

Jane's cell phone buzzed. “Yes,” she said as they kept walking down the red brick sidewalk.

Cora noticed that people were getting their homes ready for Halloween. The folks in the pink Victorian displayed three jack-o'-lanterns on a bale of hay. The next house over was more witchy. Sitting on their porch was a cauldron with a cardboard witch hunched over, peering into it. The next neighbor offered a yard full of inflatables—ghosts, Frankenstein, and Dracula. Cora wondered how they had gotten away with that, given the strict code. Maybe it was set aside for Halloween. She had so much to learn about her new hometown.

“Yes, baby, I miss you, too,” Jane said into her phone. “But are you having fun?”

Cora loved the fall harvest decorations at the next house. Brightly colored fall produce—pumpkins, squash, black-eyed Susans—added a splash of color to the front of the gray house.

“Okay, London, I love you, too,” Jane said and then put the phone back in her bag. “That was my baby. She's staying at Zelda's house tonight. I like her mom and dad. They don't seem to be bothered by everything that's going on.”

“No person with a brain in their head would be,” Cora said. “It's all going to be straightened out. And these people who are so rude will be eating crow.”

Jane looked out over the town. “I hope you're right.”

“Is there something you're not telling me?” Cora said. “I mean, other than the fact that you have a hot guy stashed away somewhere.”

Jane laughed and shook her head. “The rest of my life is an open book. The guy remains my secret until I see where it's going. Is that okay with you?”

“No,” Cora replied. “I want details!”

Jane just laughed and kept walking.

Awnings were being drawn, lights shut off, and doors locked as the shops were closed for the evening. A group of retreaters were heading into the local diner and waved to Cora and Jane.

“It's a great group of women,” Cora said. “They seem to be relaxing and fitting right in.”

“It's great that they're going out and supporting the other local businesses. That does my heart good,” Jane said. “Maybe that will save our failing reputation. Craft retreat houses a potter-killer.”

“Let's hope it doesn't get that bad.”

“I should be afraid to enter the police station, given my record here,” Jane said as they neared their destination. “But it's just so welcoming.”

“I agree,” Cora said. “Let's hope that Officer Glass has something interesting to say.”

When they entered the station, the woman behind the reception desk smiled up at them. “May I help you?”

“Hi,” Cora said. “I'm here to see Officer Glass.”

“Are you Cora Chevalier? He's been expecting you. He'll be out in a moment,” she said and picked up the phone. “Please have a seat.”

“It's odd, isn't it?” Cora said. “I've been in a lot of police stations. They are usually austere and unfriendly. Usually, kind of dumpy. But not this one.”

“Well, this is Indigo Gap,” Jane said.

When Officer Glass entered the room, he smiled at Cora, then frowned when he saw that Jane was with her. Cashel never returned her call, so she assumed it was okay tag along.

“This is Jane,” Cora said. “I asked her to come along. She obviously has a vested interest in the case.”

“I know who she is,” Glass said, quickly recovering from his initial disappointment. “I, uh, thought we'd go and have some coffee right around the corner. That okay? The only thing better than having coffee with one beautiful woman is having coffee with two.”

“Aren't you a charmer?” Jane said.

Cora was glad she'd brought her along. Her vibes were never wrong. She had an inkling this married man was feeling out her situation. Wanting to know if she'd be game for an affair—and she was not. With him. Or anybody else. She hoped that by bringing Jane along, she had sent him a clear enough signal.

“Here's the thing, ladies,” Officer Glass said, after they were situated at a table at the nearby Blue Dawg Coffee Shop. “This is not my case, so some things are not open to me. I'm sorry about that.”

“Is that what you called me here to tell me?” Cora said, after taking a drink of her coffee.

“No,” he said and lowered his voice. “I wanted to say that I don't think drugs are the issue in this case.”

“What makes you say that? I thought Josh Waters was stoned when I saw him and I'm certain I smelled something odd,” Cora said.

“He probably was high,” he said. “We found out that he was diagnosed with an untreatable cancer. He had a prescription from Pennsylvania for medical marijuana.”

“Wow,” Cora said. “I didn't see that coming.” She was certain it wasn't pot that she had smelled. But perhaps it was pot and some other substance mixed together. A wave of sadness rolled through her. “That's so awful.”

“But what about Becca?” Jane said. “She has a history of drug abuse.”

“She does. But she's clean. Because of her record, we check her periodically. She has to take regular drug tests.”

“But she seemed very disturbed,” Jane said after a minute.

Ted Glass sat back in his booth and took a drink of his coffee. “She is fragile,” he said. “The loss of her mother . . . she is so torn apart by the way her mom died. And now her dad is gone, too. She must be devastated.”

“What about her sister?” Cora said. “Where is she?”

“That's a good question,” he replied.

“So,” Cora said. “The two main causes of a murder, statistically speaking, are drugs and domestic violence and it seems like they've been eliminated in these cases.”

Jane sighed. Deep and long. “That's not exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Officer Glass was called back to the office just as they were finishing their coffee. They said their good-byes and went their separate ways.

“What are you going to do?” Jane asked, as Cora stopped while they were walking back to the house.

“I just remembered that I wanted to research the Waterses' divorce records,” she said and continued to walk. “But it's too late to go to the courthouse.”

“Why would you do that now? Both of them are dead. What does it matter?” Jane said.

Cora didn't have an answer. But she did know that sometimes things were written about a divorce that might leave clues to other parts of the lives of those involved. Hobbies. Children. Money situations. Money was always a hot-button issue and a good enough reason for many murders.

“I want to see for myself,” she said. “I'm not sure I trust Officer Glass's impressions.”

“He was up to no good. I saw the way he leered at you,” Jane said. “Aren't North Carolina records online? Let's go back to the house and check. That way we can check in on the retreaters.”

“That's right. We can do it online,” Cora said. “I always have to remind myself that almost everything is online now.”

“So funny, being the big craft blogger that you are.”

“I know, right?” Cora snickered.

The two of them walked back to the house, with the sun setting behind them. It was one of those autumn sunsets that blazed across the sky with bright oranges and fuchsia streams.

They said hello to the group of crafters huddled around the fireplace in the living room.
The group from Florida must be cold,
thought Cora.

“Everything okay?” Cora said.

“Yes, the fire is great,” Martha muttered.

“Do you have dinner plans?”

“None for me, thanks. I had enough with the brunch and there's still leftovers in the kitchen,” Diane said.

Jane and Cora sat down with the crafters as they worked. The fire crackled. Cora reached for her basket and worked on her embroidery project. Jane placed more wood into the fireplace.

Working with her hands often became like a meditation for Cora. Between the rhythmic motions and the fire, she felt grounded and centered. The chatter between the crafters was pleasant, but once again her mind turned to Josh Waters and the bloody doilies. She and Jane stayed with the other crafters for about an hour, then excused themselves.

“If you need anything, holler,” Cora said, placing her embroidery back in the basket and setting it aside. “I'm planning to come down later and take some photos of what you're doing for the blog.”

“Cool,” Diane said. “As long as the pictures are of the crafts, not me!”

The group laughed and agreed as Jane and Cora left the room. As they climbed the stairs, Cora smelled pizza.

“Someone must be eating in their room,” Cora said.

Then they heard talking and laughter through the door of one of the rooms. A woman's and a man's voice.

Jane's eyes widened. “Do you think—”

“Shhh!” Cora said and then pressed her ear up closer to the door.

A bed was creaking. There were definite moans and sighs. Cora felt her face heat.

“You have got to be kidding,” Jane said.

Cora motioned for Jane to follow her up the stairs to her apartment. When they both were inside, they exploded in a fit of giggles.

After they calmed down, Cora felt anger take the place of amusement. “I mean, it's none of my business who he sleeps with, but geez, how unprofessional can he be?”

“Wait a minute. It
is
your business,” Jane said, picking up a slip of paper from the floor. It was a note that had been slipped under the door. “It's from Ivy, explaining that she had to go because of the situation with Jude. She's embarrassed and begs our forgiveness. She felt she couldn't stay, now that he's taken up with Linda.”

Cora almost cried as dread came over her. She had wanted to create a safe space for women to explore and relax. This was not good.

“I'm going to have to talk to Jude,” she said, and a slight wave of nausea started in her stomach.

“I'd wait a few minutes, if I were you.”

“Oh, I'll wait until tomorrow. That will give me a chance to calm down,” Cora said. “What an ass. To come here to teach and then be sleeping with my retreaters. Not just one, but two. No more men after this!”

She sat down at her desk, and Luna popped into her lap. She ran her fingers over the cat's back.

“I suggest we contact Ivy and offer her the next retreat for free. What do you think?” Jane said.

“I don't know. I feel sorry for her, but she chose to hop into bed with him. Plus she's married. I'm not sure we need this kind of drama—from anybody,” Cora replied as she clicked on her computer. “Let me think about it.”

Luna curled up on Cora's lap, and Jane leaned over to see the screen. Within moments, Cora had pulled up courthouse records.

“Wait, those aren't divorce records,” Jane said. “What's that?”

“Reported robberies. I clicked the wrong tab,” Cora said.

“But there's Sarah Waters,” Jane pointed to the screen.

“Hmm. Looks like there was a robbery at the Waterses' house about a month before she was killed. A couple of opium kits were stolen. And they were insured for three-point-two million dollars?” Cora said.

“What? That can't be right. Three-point-two million?” Jane exclaimed.

“I agree. It's excessive, but the broom collection that Jude bought from them was pricey as well. This kit had jewels of some kind on it. I'll never understand the collector mind-set,” Cora said.

“Or their wallets. Who is willing to spend that kind of money on a broom, or an opium kit, just to sit and look at?”

“I wonder if Sarah ever received that insurance money. Sarah was still working at the school when she was killed. It doesn't seem likely that she had millions socked away,” Cora said.

“Who would she have left her money to? Her daughters? Her ex-husband? I mean, she hadn't remarried. She was divorced for years, way before the robbery.”

“Well, let's start with the divorce settlement and work our way to finding a will or probate records,” Cora said. “Divorce records can tell us a good bit, even if the divorce was years ago.”

The two of them read over the divorce records that Cora quickly found. Josh had apparently requested the divorce on the grounds of marital infidelity on Sarah's part. He took almost everything in the proceedings, except the house.

“There's no mention of millions, then,” Jane said.

“But they didn't have millions then,” Cora pointed out.

There was a list of ordinary things—cars, the house, jewelry—plus Sarah's own collections, which she kept along with the house. They had a grand total of $300,000 in assets. Even though Sarah had owned the highly-valued collectibles, no mention was made of the value or of an insurance policy. Maybe the policy came later.

Then Cora and Jane moved on to her estate and will, which once again listed all of her assets, but sans millions she would have made if she'd filed that insurance claim.

“We know her items were insured, now. At least that's what the newspapers say. I wonder what happened with the insurance claim after she was robbed,” Jane said, tilting her head.

“It's possible she never contacted them,” Cora offered. “There's no mention of a huge amount of money in any of the probate records. Of course, I think some of this is pending. It's happened so recently.”

After a few minutes more of reading, Jane asked, “Could she have been awarded money and then just never listed it in her assets?”

“That would be fraud and maybe tax evasion. I think,” Cora responded. Spirals of curiosity zoomed through her. What was going on here?

“Well, they have both been murdered. It seems the killer must be after something,” Jane said grimly.