Strung Out to Die (7 page)

I really wanted to whack her, but I needed this job. I needed the income from sixteen sets of bridesmaids’ accessories, so I just bit my lip.

“I can assure you I am on the up and up. I will design and make the most beautiful accessories you’ve ever seen for a bridal party.” I hated to beg, but I would have gotten on my knees if I’d needed too.

“Fine. We will give you a shot.” Momma sat down next to Margaret.

“I’m so embarrassed.” Margaret flipped her ponytail.

I smiled. It looked like Margaret and her momma were attending the class.

I grabbed a couple more bead boards, and Marlene put the cookies and fruit punch out on the counter. Within ten minutes, all the beaders were there, including Margaret and her momma.

After some small talk and a few refreshments, it was time to start class. The first beading class was always a lot of repetition.

“Hi, thank you all for signing up.” I greeted them with a smile and made eye contact with each of them. I didn’t want them to think I was hiding anything about the murder. “Not to make light of the situation, but I was afraid that no one was going to show up because of what happened here.”

I didn’t want to ignore what had happened. No matter how you looked at it, finding a dead guy in your shop couldn’t be good for business.

“Over the next four weeks of classes, we will be making a simple beaded bracelet, earrings, and a necklace.” All of these were quite simple and added a little difficulty as they progressed to each new accessory. “Today, we are going to learn the basic tools, and how to make a basic bracelet.”

I brought out a single-strand glass bead bracelet I had made as an example to pass around to my beginner classes. Seeing examples always helped me when I started beading my own jewelry.

We went through each tool and its purpose. I asked them to use their piles of beads to lay out a design. Each one of them took the time to consider carefully where to place each bead.

Some of them wanted to use fancier beads, but I always saved those for the more advanced classes.

I repeated the process several times, teaching them the proper technique for measuring their wrists. It was hard for them to understand that they had to add an inch to the length, because they had to leave enough space for the crimp and toggle closure. Plus, a little extra wiggle room never hurt anyone.

After they were finished designing their bracelets, I introduced the Accu-Flex wire they would be using to string the beads. Accu-Flex is a great wire that is flexible and sturdy enough that the bracelet can be worn every day. I showed them the bead hole size, and how it compared to the 8 gauge wire I was using.

“I had no idea you had to keep wire size in mind.” Zelma, Margaret’s momma, fingered the spool of wire, taking a closer look.

For a split second, I wondered why the murderer hadn’t used wire to strangle Doug. He or she had actually used the cat eyes that were threaded on wool yarn. That meant that the murderer had to be really strong.

Learning how to crimp one side of the closure proved to be a little difficult for most of the class. It was hard to hold the wire, put the crimp bead on, add the toggle closure, and double the wire over into the crimp bead before you used the crimp tool to finish it off.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just string them and then put the closure on.” Flora had her phone pinned between her ear and shoulder while trying to hold up the wire and string the beads.

“It’s much easier for you to string the beads with one end finished.” I showed them what I meant by using a bracelet I was working on as an example. “The beads won’t fall off, and it’s easier to complete.”

Each student was at a different skill level. Flora wasn’t making any progress, but she did make progress in her phone conversation as she cackled to the person on the other end. I had to hush her a few times.

Margaret was the student who surprised me the most. She was a perfect crimper. It had taken me several tries to get that good of a double fold when I was starting out. Zelma wasn’t doing as well.

Every time Zelma pushed her reading glasses up on her nose, she would let go of the open end of her bracelet. She lost several beads to
The Under
. I was glad I had given them the handful of mismatched beads instead of the more expensive ones.

I glanced over at Marlene, who was working the counter as other customers came in. She had Tigertail beading wire wrapped around her pointer finger. She had been working hard on the wrapping technique so she could wrap her yellow Spinel. I had suggested she continue to practice on her finger or other glass beads the size of the Spinel. If she perfected the technique, it would lessen her chances of scratching the precious gem when it was time to wrap it.

She wrapped, unwrapped, and then wrapped again. It was a nice tight fit. Images of the cat eye strand around Doug’s neck popped into my head. I shook it off and went back to the group of students.

Everyone put the finishing touches on their bracelets.

“If you wouldn’t mind cleaning up your clippings and putting them in the trash, that would be great.” I pointed to the trashcans. “And if you don’t mind putting your tools away, hang onto your bead boards along with your beads and wire. I have a spot in the storage room for you all to store your projects.”

One by one, each student came to me with their bead boards, and I walked them back to the storage room, getting chills every time I walked over Doug’s dead spot.

“Feel free to come in between classes and work on your projects or practice.” I wanted to encourage them to stop in any time and be able to get their money’s worth.

But most importantly, I wanted them to come back more often, which would increase the possibility that they would purchase something.

“Are you okay?” Marlene asked when all the students had left. “You look a little tense.”

She was right. I could feel my shoulders creeping up to my ears. I loved teaching class and beading, but I was having a hard time getting the image of Doug’s body out of my head, and the wrapping technique she had used around her finger was, well …perfect.

“I’m just a little tired.” I laughed it off. I didn’t want to give Marlene any inclination that she was on my short, very short, list of murderers. “Teaching really takes it out of me.”

“Why don’t you go home for a little rest before the Divorced Diva’s meeting?” Marlene said as she flipped through one of the beading catalogues. “I can hold down the fort for a little bit.”

There probably wasn’t much Marlene couldn’t hold down.

“Thanks. I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” I went back to the office to retrieve Willow and we headed for home.

Chapter Eight

I could see that the building where the Food Watchers group meets was all lit up as I was on my way home.

With Marlene finishing up at the shop, I’d thought taking a walk with Willow would be just the thing I needed to relieve my stress and help me get ready for tonight’s Diva meeting. But then, I thought that Bernadine might be right. Food Watchers was at least worth a shot.

I whipped my little VW into the parking lot. It wasn’t going to hurt to check it out. I pulled out Willow’s travel water bowl and put it on the floorboard. After cracking the window so she’d get some air, I headed in to face the scale.

The meeting was located in one big room with ten rows of yellow chairs. There were three workstations with computers and floor scales along with a Food Watcher Specialist in matching yellow shirts and khaki pants.

“Hi, there.” Enthusiasm oozed from the size zero Food Watcher Specialist. “Are you new?” She chirped this in a voice that indicated she might bring out the ‘spirit hands’ at any moment.

At that moment, everyone sitting in the yellow chairs rotated and looked at me as if I was on display. I bet they could smell a new member a mile away.

Charlie
was the name printed on
the tag pinned to the specialist’s shirt.

“Hi, Charlie.” I smiled and nodded.

“Holly!” Bernadine jumped up from the front row and waved her arms while walking over. “I’m so glad Marlene caught you.”

“Caught me?” I drew back, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

“Excuse me, she’s with you?” Charlie clasped her hands in delight. It was a little too much delight, if you asked me.

“She is,” Bernadine broke out in a singsongy voice. “Yes, she is.”

Charlie took a small steel hammer and hit a bell attached to the edge of her desk.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Everyone cheered. I just wanted to hide.

Bernadine gave Charlie a high-five and then hugged me. “I’ve been waiting to get my bell.”

Charlie took out a bell-shaped lapel pin and fastened it to Bernadine’s cardigan. Bernadine touched it with obvious pride.

“If you bring in a new customer, they give you a bell.” Bernadine caressed her pin. “Sort of like the saying about an angel getting its wings. When we bring someone new in, we are like angels of weight loss.”

Please.
I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever.” I sighed. “Charlie, I’m really just here to check out the place and see if it’s for me.” I turned to Bernadine and whispered under my voice, “What was that about Marlene catching me?”

Charlie walked around the counter, never once taking her eyes off me.

“Um…what are you doing?” A little anxiety knotted in my gut.

Without a word, Charlie slapped a big ‘My Name Is’ sticker right across my chest.

“Everyone wears a name tag.” Sarcasm dripped from her perfect lips.

To keep the peace, I bit my lip and followed Bernadine to the front of the room, but not without many congratulations for the bell ringing ceremony. Marlene beamed with pride, while I beamed with a red, embarrassed face.

“I called the shop to let you know there was a Food Watchers meeting tonight. She said that you’d just left and she’d try to catch you before you pulled out.”

I wasn’t going to explain that Marlene hadn’t caught me.

“If you had a cell, I could’ve just called you instead of having to tracking you down.” She patted the chair next to her so I would sit down.

I started to ask, “Do we have to sit so close?” but I was interrupted.

“Is everybody ready?” A loud voice boomed over the intercom.

Bernadine and all the other Food Watchers stood up and clapped. A few even let fly with some loud hoots.

Every single person had a beatific smile on their face, as if some Hollywood megastar had just walked into the room.

I craned my neck to see what everyone was so excited about. The clapping and swaying was infectious. Raucous music was blaring and the strobe light in the center of the room rotated, making it hard to focus on anyone.

My toes began to tap like they had a mind of their own.
Well, a little sway too and fro isn’t going to hurt anyone
I thought
When in Rome.

The Food Watchers in the center aisle parted as a tall, blonde, gazelle-like woman made her way through the crowd. She held a microphone in one hand and greeted her eager, food-deprived acolytes with the other.

She had to be the famous “Ms. Food Watchers.”

“Hello!” She smiled when she got to the front of the room and hopped up on the small stage right in front of Bernadine and me.

I had to shield my eyes from the glare of her pro-white dentals.

“Is everybody ready to lose some weight?” Ms. Food Watchers pumped her fists in the air and the crowd erupted in even louder cheers.

Just then, something occurred to me. I leaned over and whispered in Bernadine’s ear, “This is a cult.”

“Shut up, Holly.” Bernadine touched her bell pin and continued to clap along with everyone else.

The meeting itself really wasn’t so bad, but the enthusiasm of the leaders and members was almost unbearable. No one had said a negative word about food until Ms. Food Watcher mentioned fudge.

A collective gasp filled the room.

“Fudge is not your friend,” Ms. Food Watcher whispered as if it was going to help soften the blow for all the fudge lovers in the audience. Then she patted her thighs.

“She better not tell Agnes Pearl.” Bernadine cackled.

Agnes Pearl. Fudge. Doug Sloan.

“I’ll see you at the Divas meeting,” I said to her and jumped to my feet.

“Yes!” Ms. Food Watcher pointed to me. I froze like a deer in headlights when she waved for me to join her on the stage. “You have let the words move you! Everyone on your feet!”

Me?
I pointed to myself.

“Yes, you, Holly!” Ms. Food Watcher yelled into the microphone after straining to read the name tag plastered across my chest. “Tell us what moved you.”

I glared at Bernadine, who was smiling from ear to ear. She was going to get an earful about this later.

The room went silent. Everyone was waiting to hear what I was going to say.

“I, um…realized that fudge is bad.” I stood still, but not for long.

Everyone cheered and clapped just like Oprah’s audience on her “Favorite Things” show.

“Thank you. Thank you.” I held my hands in the air as I casually made my way down the center aisle and straight out the door.

What was that?
I couldn’t wait until I saw Bernadine at the Divas meeting. I was going to kill her.

Maybe Marlene wasn’t the killer. What if it was Agnes? After all, she did threaten to kill Doug, and she could be framing Marlene for it.

Chapter Nine

Willow and I didn’t have enough time to make it home and get to the meeting on time, so we went back to the shop. I knew Marlene had probably already closed up and gone to pick up Agnes.

The apartment above the shop was dark. If the light had been on in Cheri’s apartment, I would’ve gone up there and waited, but it wasn’t. She must have been at school. Or, better yet, maybe she was at the Livin’ End trying to get some scoop on the whole Doug situation.

With Willow on my heels, I crept up the steps. Hesitating for a moment before I pushed the key into the lock, I looked up and down Main Street to see if anyone was around.

My mind was creating havoc.

After barely opening the door, I stuck my hand in and patted up the wall until I found the light switch.