High Strung: A Glass Bead Mystery (The Glass Bead Mystery Series) (5 page)

When I got to Fremont Fire, I spotted Tessa at a table on the raised platform that would be used for today’s beadmaking demonstrations. She’d moved some of the worktables aside to make room for the rows of seats the girls had set up yesterday. It was looking like an official classroom. On each chair Tessa had placed a brochure promoting the upcoming classes at her studio. Clever, clever Tessa, always marketing her services and products.

“Where the heck have you been?” Tessa blew her bangs out of her eyes, a sure sign of exasperation.

“I am so sorry I’m late. I forgot that Marta Ellison was staying at my house this weekend, and she showed up right as I was getting ready to leave.” This, of course, was a lie. I had still been asleep when Marta arrived. In some ways, it was fortunate she showed up when she did, or else I might still be sleeping.

I saw Nick and Misty working in a corner of the studio that hadn’t been re-configured for today’s sessions.

Nick was working at a tabletop torch. Misty was cleaning mandrels, thin metal rods beadmakers wrap glass around when they are making beads.

“Hey, Jax,” said Misty.

“Do you need some help dipping mandrels in bead release?” I asked.

“It’s okay, I’m almost done,” Misty said, dunking a couple of inches of each mandrel into jar full of what looked like a clay milkshake, and then placing each wet-tipped mandrel into a hole in a wooden block to dry.

I’d chatted with Misty and Nick at Fremont Fire a few times, and I’d seen them selling their beads on the street, like yesterday. They used Tessa’s studio to create batches of beads they would sell. My friend supported Nick and Misty by letting them use her scrap glass, and she often gave them free rental time on the torches to help them make a few extra things to sell.

I admired some of the beads that had just come out of the
cold kiln, now sitting on the counter, still on their mandrels.

“
Oh, these are some of my favorites,” Misty said, noticing that I was admiring her beads. “That red color. It’s hard to work with.”

“
All right, you guys need to finish up,” Tessa said, “we’ve got people coming in here to watch demos in about an hour.”

“
Yeah, we’ve gotta stop. No more money to keep going,” Nick said, as he turned off the torch.

“
Well, don’t worry about paying me. You can pay me back some other time.”

As
Nick moved away from the torch, he knocked over a small jar of bead release, and Misty helped him wipe up the mess on the countertop.

“I dipped some extra mandrels for you, Tessa,” Misty said with a smile. She seemed happy to be able to do something nice to help Tessa in return for all she had done for them.

“Misty? How much for the red bead?” I asked.

“Is $20 okay with you?”

“It’s worth every cent,” I said.

Misty pulled the bead off the mandrel. The bead release crumbled away as she did, leaving in its place a perfect hole. She placed the bead in my hand, happy to have made a sale.

I handed her a bill and pocketing the bead.

“Hey, thanks,” said Misty with a small wave, as she and Nick headed for the door.

“Not staying for the demos?” Tessa asked.

“Yeah, we’re not really into hanging out with so many…”

“Bead ladies?”

“Uh, yeah, sort of,” said Nick. And they were gone.

We bustled around, getting ready for the demos. They were scheduled to start at 11:00, and just a few minutes before that, Fremont Fire was packed with people sitting in the audience.

“
Hey, Tracy,” I said noticing her taking a seat on the aisle. “I didn’t think you’d make it here for the beadmaking demos.”

“
I’ve never been over here before, and it seemed like it would be fun to see some flameworking.”

“
Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“
Okay, everyone, let’s get started! First up is Dylan.” Tessa was trying to get everyone seated and ready to watch the first demo. “He’ll be making a hollow bead from borosilicate glass, also known as Pyrex.” My sturdy measuring cup was made of Pyrex, and it amazed me to think that a torch could melt it.

Dylan had been hiding out in the storage room. I think
he had stage fright, poor guy. Tessa coaxed him out, and he got started. As soon as Dylan lit the torch, I saw all of his nervousness melt away, and he started describing his process. He was at home behind a torch, and I smiled, watching him make a perfect pendant in front of dozens of onlookers.

I looked down and realized the chair where Tracy had been sitting was empty.
How strange. Hadn’t she just told me she was looking forward to seeing how beads are made? Perhaps there’d been an emergency back at the bead shop.

When Dylan finished, we all applauded for him and he
made a silly awkward bow before he left the raised stage area.

We took a break before the next demo started.
Tessa had gotten coffee sent over from Starbucks. She’d bought some donut holes and piled them high on plates on one of the side tables. By the end of the break, I had drifts of powdered sugar across my black shirt. I swear I do not know how other people avoid looking like they were hit by a miniature blizzard when eating those little white donuts.

I brushed myself off as best I could. I
’d worn a necklace, made of beads, of course, that I’d wrapped around my neck a couple of times to make a choker. I unwound it and put it back on as one long necklace, hoping to camouflage any speckles of white sugar remaining on my shirt.

Tessa
took the stage once again. “Next up is Saundra Jameson. Many of you know Saundra from her popular
Bead Div
a
book series. We are happy to have Saundra here to demonstrate how to make one of her animal-print beads.”

This likely explained why Judy from JOWL had been wearing
a large tiger-striped bead yesterday. Saundra must have made it.

The Bead Diva
took the stage, looking elegant in her long flowing skirt and kimono-style jacket. Saundra tied her long hair back with a satin ribbon and removed her jacket. She donned a work tunic so she wouldn’t ruin what she was wearing if a small piece of glass landed on her while she was working. That happens from time to time to anyone who is a flameworker. One thing that meant for me—since I didn’t own a fancy work tunic—was that most of the jeans and shirts I owned had tiny burn holes in them.

“
Hello, everyone. I am glad so many people showed up to watch
me
demo today,” said Saundra.

“
Came specifically to see her?” I said to Tessa, as we stood at the back of the room. “Because no one would show up to see the other riffraff?”

“Shhhhh,” Tessa scolded.

“Today you will be seeing me create a bead I’ve only demonstrated on one other occasion, and that was when I was asked to show some high-value donors how to make one of my signature beads at a fundraising event,” Saundra continued, sounding pleased with herself.

“
Diva and saint,” Tessa whispered, looking at Saundra with at least at much disdain asSaundra had for everyone else in the room
.
“Listen, I’ve got to go herd some more cats to keep these demos going.”

Hearing Tessa mention cats, even if hers were metaphorical, reminded me of Gumdrop.
“Tessa, you are not going to believe this, but Gumdrop has flown the coop!” I told her what happened, and filled her in on Marta and the not-very-welcome Stanley. Tessa gave me a big hug and wished for Gumdrop’s safe return, and then went off to find the next performer in today’s three-ring circus.

Saundra was still going strong when I finished my update with Tessa. Saundra went on. And on and on and on.
“In order to make the tiger-striped bead, with full instructions in my book
Bead Diva 3: Jungle-Inspired Designs
,
we start by making what is commonly called a twisty, which of course, is incorrect…as we all should know, the proper name of this is technique is the Italian word
latticino
. Next…”

I wandered off, figuring that someday I
’d sit down and read her book. But at that moment, I just couldn’t stand her ego—it was taking up too much of the room.

I waved to Tessa as I headed for the door. She looked like she had her hands full
, trying to herd Indigo Martin up to the front of the room to get ready for her demo, and needed to find a giant hook to get Saundra off the stage.

“Gummmmmdrooooopppp!” I yelled coming in the back door. “Come on out, kitty-kitty-kitty!” There was no sign of Gumdrop. He was definitely not in the house, because he would have come out from his hiding place by now.

My cat had
been gone all day, and I was worried about him. I put a bowl of food on the porch, with the hope that if Gumdrop was hiding somewhere nearby, he’d come out when he smelled the food. We have some big rosemary bushes between the porch and the yard, and they looked like a perfect hiding place. I got down on my hands and knees to look under the low branches. No luck. My dear Gummie wasn’t there.

As I turned to get up, I saw a pair of work boots next to me. Attached to these boots were a man
’s legs, in fact a whole man.

“
Need some help?” the man said, offering me his hand. Oh, great. He must be one of Val’s boyfriends, another in her never-ending stream of bad choices.

He was a tall, gangly guy with a pockmarked face. He didn
’t seem like one of Val’s usual boyfriends, with his scraggly ponytail, enormous muttonchops, and harsh dark eyes. He wasn’t the friendliest-looking guy I’d ever seen, though he did seem to have manners enough to help me up.

V
al trotted out her front door. “Oh, hi Jax! This is Rudy, the painter you said was coming to give you a quote on doing your kitchen.”

Ah. This explained why this
scary man was here, although it didn’t explain why he’d been in Val’s house or why Val was carrying a pitcher of margaritas and two glasses. Perhaps she had finally taken my advice, and decided that sometimes you have to look past someone’s superficial beauty to see how terrific they are.

“
Oh, right,” I said after being hoisted up by Rudy and straightening myself out. “Do you have a quote for me on the painting job?”

“
Oh, yeah. Your kitchen.” Val had distracted Rudy. I wondered if he’d even been in to see the kitchen. Humph. “Yeah, it’s going to need a lot of work getting the peeling paint off the ceiling.” Oh yes, he had definitely been in my kitchen.

“
I’ll send you a quote real soon. I left my card on your kitchen counter,” Rudy said, as he headed toward Val’s door, a margarita with his name on it beckoning to him.

“
Okay, you guys, see you later.” But there was no response as the door clicked shut.

Back inside, I sat at
the kitchen table and stared up at the ceiling with its rippling paint that dated back at least twenty years. I hoped Rudy would give me a good deal on fixing it. Maybe I’d get the “neighbor-of-your-new-girlfriend” discount, but I doubted it.

I started up my Mac, and went to Craigslist to see if any cats resembling Gumdrop were listed in the
“Lost and Found” section. No gray cats had been found. I posted a “lost cat” message, giving a good description of my dear kitty, but leaving out the part about him being psychic, and also omitting that he was addicted to catnip.

Since I was on my laptop I decided to whip up a lost cat poster to tack up around the neighborhood. I started up Microsoft Word, and typed up a description of Gummie, and added my phone number. I found a good picture of him and put it right in the middle of the page. Then I printed a few copies,
and headed out the door and down the street, tacking up the posters on telephone poles as I went.

On my way back up the street, I spotted
Mr. Chu at his mailbox. He had an enormous orange tabby cat slung over one arm. His ratty robe was not all the way closed, revealing a dingy white t-shirt and boxer shorts.

I’ve met a few crazy cat ladies, but Mr. Chu was the first crazy cat man I’d ever met.

Mr. Chu headed back down the driveway between our houses, and I caught up with him.

“Mr. Chu, h
i, how are you?”

“Fine, fine,” he said, holding his cat close and petting him in long strokes. Mr. Chu was a man of few words. I think he preferred cats to people.

“I’m wondering if you’ve seen my cat,” I said, as I followed him down the driveway. “He’s big and gray with long-hair, and has a bit of an attitude.”

“No. Can’t say I have.” We’d reached Mr. Chu’s
back door. When he opened it, I could see a handful of cats standing inside looking up at their owner expectantly.

“Can’t let any cats out,” Mr. Chu said, squeezing in the door, waving, and shutting it quickly.

My search for Gumdrop would have to continue later.

What I needed to do now was to put together the packet of instructions for
the workshop I was giving on Sunday. I had a tutorial for a bracelet, using five oval white heart beads. Each bead is wrapped with wire to create a link in a chain, then the links are attached together to make a pretty bracelet, or you can make more components and create an entire necklace. A necklace like that was on display at Aztec Beads this weekend.

…

This was a different kind of job than I used to have. These days, it seemed like I was constantly working: making beads, making jewelry, creating inventories, working on my website, contacting galleries, at all times of the day and night. When I worked for Clorox, it was a regular nine to five job. I had job security and a consistent paycheck. I had all of that…until Aunt Rita and I decided it was time to start on my next adventure.

That day
I simply went into my boss’ office and said, “Terry, I’m resigning. I need a change.”

“
I figured you wouldn’t be around much longer. You haven’t been happy for a while,” Terry said, staring at his computer screen, not turning around.

“
I’m moving to Seattle. It’s a long story. I’d really like to get out of here sooner than later. Any chance we can skip the two weeks notice?”

“
No problem, Jax, no problem at all.” The blue glow of the computer screen illuminated his dark face. “We’ll send you a final check.”

“
Thanks so much, Terry, you are changing my life!” I said, trying to work up some enthusiasm in him.

“
No problem. Have a nice life,” he said, as he continued to review his latest test results.

That. Was. It. Not even a handshake good-bye. I walked down the white hall, with its white floor, through the white door, and into a world of living color.

…

A knock on
the back door jolted me out of my memories. I fully expected it would be Marta, there to show me what a good job Stanley had done making a piddle, or a pee-pee or whatever.

“
Dylan,” I said with surprise, as I opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

“
I’m just nervous about going to the party tonight. You know, it’s all a bunch of bead ladies, and then
me
.”

“
What, you want me to make you an honorary bead lady? It can be done, you know,” I said with mock seriousness.

“
It’s just that I don’t fit in, you know?” Dylan said, looking down at the table, dejected. He noticed the stack of class instructions
.
“You ready to teach your class?”

“
I am. I think, I am. Maybe,” I said shuffling through the papers to make sure they were all complete.

“
I dunno, Jax, maybe I should give it up, I mean, nobody takes me seriously.”

“
Look, Dylan: I take you seriously. Tessa takes you seriously. You take yourself seriously, right? That’s enough. Go home, put on some nice clothes,” I said looking at his old t-shirt, holey jeans and flip-flops, “and get ready to schmooze some people tonight. Maybe you’ll meet a jewelry designer who wants to place a huge order for your excellent beads.”

Dylan stood there
, staring down at his saggy pants. “I can’t really afford any new clothes. The new apartment is pretty much wiping my bank account clean each month.”

“
Well, we can’t have that, can we?” I said grabbing my handbag.

“
Uh…”

“
Come on, Dylan, nobody is going to take you seriously unless you ‘up your game.’ Okay? So, let’s get moving. I’m going to be your fairy godmother.”

“
Fairy god—”

“
That’s right Dylan. Fairy. God. Mother! You know, she gets Cinderella a new dress to go to the ball.” I turned and opened the studio door, and gestured toward the Ladybug.

“
Sire, your carriage awaits.”

Dylan looked at me uncertainly.
“Let’s go,” I said, trying to clear up the picture for him. “I’m going to buy you an outfit to wear tonight.” This had not been part of the plan for my busy day, but I am always a sucker for a good cause.

“
I won’t buy you anything crazy, or anything that’s going to make you feel uncomfortable. Just something nice.” I was getting worried Val’s love of makeovers was contagious. “I’m not going to spend a lot, we’re just going to get you something that will make you feel confident, and maybe that confidence will mean someone wants to buy a few extra beads.”

“
Just the two of us?” Dylan asked timidly, as I opened the car door and pushed him in. I came around to the driver’s side and swung myself into the seat.

I gave him a sideways glance.
“Why?”

“
Well, I think your neighbor, Val, dresses nice. Maybe she could come?”

My head came to rest on the steering wheel. Val. If I invited her to come on this little makeover adventure, I would never hear the end of it.

“Sure, Dylan, if that would make you happy,” I sighed. “Let’s go talk with Val and see if she can come.” I hoped Rudy had already left, and that Val would simply not open the door if we were interrupting something.

We got back out of the car and came around the side of the house, narrowly missing a pile of poop Stanley had left behind. Dammit, Marta, get your shit together. Literally. Figuratively.

Dylan followed after me like my own puppy. When we arrived at Val’s door a few seconds later, we knocked and Val opened the door.

“
Yessssss,” she said with a big curious smile.

“
Dylan and I were wondering if you’d like to go shopping with us,” I said, subtly craning my neck around Val to see if Rudy was inside.

“
Becausssssse…,” she prompted me to continue, leaning saucily against the doorjamb.

I took a deep breath. “
Because Dylan here needs a new outfit to wear for the party tonight, and so I said I’d buy him something.”

“
But really, Jax, you don’t—” said Dylan.

“
I want to—”

“
People! People!” Val said clapping her hands to get our attention.

We both stopped and looked at her
, our mouths still open but no words coming out.

“
You know that expression, when you don’t have anything to wear, you should ‘shop your closet?’” Val asked.

“
No,” Dylan and I said in unison.

Val sighed.
“Well, the idea is that before you buy anything new, you should make sure you don’t have the perfect thing already in your closet. But, there is another saying, a corollary.”

“
Corollary?” we said in unison.

“
Yes, corollary!” Val said impatiently. I have to admit that while I knew what a corollary was, I was pretty surprised Val did. “The corollary is: when you can’t find anything in your closet, shop your neighbor’s closet.”

I had never seen Val so pumped up.
“Don’t you worry, Dylan, I will take care of you.”

Dylan looked nervous. I
’m sure he was regretting his idea of asking Val along on our clothes-shopping spree. We were both assessing our options for a getaway plan.

Val grabbed both of us by the wrist
s, and yanked us inside. It was too late to escape now. She’d closed us in, and we were trapped in her living room with her animal print pillows and bright pink sofa.

“I have a few things here that might work and it might mean Jax can save her hard-earned money.” Val was talking a mile a minute.

“
You see,” she said, by way of explanation, “I’ve had a few boyfriends.”

“
Just a few,” I agreed, being more than just a little snarky.

“
And so sometimes they leave things behind. I have here a giant box of men’s clothing,” Val said returning from her bedroom and struggling to see over the top of the box she carried.

“
I’m getting clothing worn by a bunch of old dudes?” asked Dylan.

“
Not
old,” said Val. “I do not date old guys.”

“
Val, your donation to Dylan’s cause is a great one,” I said, but I knew this wasn’t going to work out. Her heart was in the right place, but a bunch of questionable clothing from some guys who were also pretty questionable, seemed like a less-than-perfect situation.