Off the Beadin' Path, Glass Bead Mystery Series, Book 3

by Janice Peacock

  “How did he end up in such trouble?”

  “I think Zachary let the Seattle P.D. know Ryan was out of bounds—literally and figuratively.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  In the morning, as Tessa and I headed through my studio on our way to the car, I made a detour to the bead trays I kept by the back wall. I grabbed one of my ocean beads for Tony Stein, slid it into a plastic bag, and put it in my handbag. I needed to remember to stop by his garage and give him the bead I owed him.

  Soon we were on the road headed back out to Old Firehouse Studio. The long trip each day was exhausting, and each mile I drove made me wish we had stayed in Carthage. Of course, there was a killer on the loose in Carthage, so staying away from there as much as possible was probably good for our life expectancies.

  We joined the other students in the hot shop, and I couldn’t help but notice how Katia was behaving. While she had been cold to Marco, she seemed to be warming up to Dario, and not because the temperature in the room was rising from all the hot glass being used. I could see what she saw in him and how he was more appealing than Marco. While Marco had a slick, cocky attitude, complete with over-the-top overtures toward women, Dario was suave and more of a gentleman.

  “Dario,” Katia said, calling him over to her. “I’m having trouble clipping these canes. Can you help?” He slid up next to her and took the glass nippers. As he did, her hands rested on his a bit longer than was absolutely necessary. Was a little romance blooming right here in the glass studio? I hoped seeing this wouldn’t stir up any feelings that Tessa once had for Dario, although from what Tessa had said, I didn’t think those emotions had ever been very strong.

  Tessa was busy talking with Abby, who looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She was sitting at the back of the hot shop running her hands through her hair over and over. Eventually Abby left to take a phone call and Tessa joined me.

  “Poor Abby. She’s worried about Dez,” Tessa said.

  “But I thought going on a bender was a usual thing for him,” I said.

  “Yes, but Abby said it’s strange for him to be gone for so long.”

  “Want to hit some bars?” I asked Tessa as we watched the other students work.

  “It’s a little too early for a drink, don’t you think?”

  “We should try to find Dez. Obviously, Sheriff Poole hasn’t had any luck. Let’s go check out the local pubs. Maybe we’ll find a bartender or barfly who’s willing to tell us if they’ve seen him.”

  I pulled out my phone and searched for bars in the area. There were exactly two within a ten-mile radius.

  “Which would you like to try first, Herbie’s Hideaway or the Office?” I asked.

  “The Office? What a weird name for a bar.”

  “It’s so you can say, ‘Sorry, honey, I had to stay late at the Office.’” When I lived with Jerry in Miami, I heard that line a lot. He spent most of his evenings at a place called the Gym. He could say he stopped at the Gym, which sounded like he was being healthy when in fact, he was pickling his liver in whiskey with beer chasers. “So, which would you like to hit first?”

  “Let’s go to the Office.”

  “A respectable choice.”

  • • •

  As we drove to The Office, I thought about the students in class today. Duke was not at Tessa’s studio yesterday, and I didn’t see him at Firehouse Studio today. Why hadn’t he returned to class after hearing that Dario replaced Marco as our instructor? I wondered what he knew about Marco and Dario and their relationships to all the other people in the class this week.

  The Office was at the end of a once-paved road. These days it was more like gravel with patches of asphalt here and there, evidence of futile attempts to fix the crumbling road.

  “Keep your eyes open for the sheriff,” I told Tessa. “I don’t want to run into him. If I do, this time I’m sure I’ll end up in jail, and I don’t think I can count on Ryan saving me again.”

  “Should we act like we’re drunk when we arrive?” Tessa asked. “People might be more willing to talk with us if we were.”

  “That’s a good idea. We can try. Maybe you should try to act a little slutty,” I suggested.

  “Me? I’m a mom! I don’t do slutty! You have more curves than me anyway, why don’t you show off a little more cleavage?” She reached over and popped the top button on my blouse. I smacked her hand away. “Excuse me! I am showing off plenty of cleavage already.”

  I parked the Ladybug behind The Office.

  As we stepped inside, it took us a moment for our eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The bar had the acrid smell of stale beer and cigars. The floor felt sticky as we walked, likely from years of spilled beer and questionable janitorial skills. The place was empty except for the bartender. So much for chatting up the locals.

  Tessa and I took seats at the bar. The bartender, lazing behind the beer taps, asked us what we wanted.

  “Two beersh, pleash,” said Tessa with a fake slur. She swayed a little from side to side.

  “Don’t go overboard with the drunk thing,” I whispered to Tessa.

  “You gals want the special lager?”

  “Sure,” I replied. Tessa continued swaying back and forth. I clamped my hand on the back of her neck to steady her.

  The bartender placed the drinks in front of us.

  “I haven’t seen you two here before.”

  “Us? We’re, um, looking at real estate. Thinking about buying.”

  Tessa hiccuped in agreement.

  I stomped on her foot to get her to tone down her drunken charade.

  “We’re thinking about moving to Carthage,” I said.

  “Our friend Dez, he’s got a business there,” Tessa said. She still sounded drunk but had toned down the slur.

  “Dez, yeah. Comes here a lot,” the bartender said.

  “Nice place. I could see why he’d want to come here,” I said looking around at the greasy faux wood paneling and animal head trophies hanging crookedly on the walls. “He talks about this place all the time and said we needed to come check it out.”

  “We’ve been here a long time. And Dez, he’s the best, one of our most loyal customers.”

  “He said we could come here almost any night and find him,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah, he’s put away a swimming pool worth of whiskey since moving to Carthage.” The bartender pointed, with a glass in his hand, to the dark brown booth in the back corner of the bar. “Sometimes he sleeps it off in the booth back there.”

  At least we knew where Dez slept some, if not all, of the nights he didn’t come home to Abby.

  “He’s been here for the last couple of days. Left yesterday, said he was headed home.”

  Dez was alive! At least he was yesterday. What could this possibly tell us? First, it could be safely assumed Dez was not on the run after killing Marco. Second, it meant whoever had killed Marco had no reason to kill someone else, at least not yet. Third, it meant Sheriff Poole was possibly the worst detective ever, since he was going to look for Dez in local bars and apparently hadn’t made it to this one, because if he had, he’d have found Dez. I had to wonder, once we finally found Dez, what could he tell us about the night Marco was murdered? I hoped he hadn’t pickled his brain to the point he couldn’t remember any details.

  Abby was going to be thrilled to hear Dez was alive. Since he hadn’t shown up at home or their studio, it did make me wonder where he was now.

  “Does he have some other place he likes to go? I heard there’s another bar around here.”

  “Oh, you mean Herbie’s Hideaway? Old Herb, he’s been gone for a while.”

  “Dead?” Tessa asked.

  “No, he’s a taking a trip to the Caribbean. His wife’s been bugging him to go for years.”

  “You got a ladies’ room?” Tessa asked the bartender, sti
ll in her fake-drunken state.

  “Sure, back there, make a left at the moose head.”

  Tessa jumped down from the barstool. “You coming with me?”

  “No, I’m fine,” I replied.

  “I dunno, I might not be able to find my way,” Tessa said, laying the drunken shtick on heavily.

  “Right! You know us ladies, always having to go together,” I said to the bartender, heading toward Tessa, the moose head looming on the wall above her.

  “Is this all part of your drunken charade?” I asked Tessa.

  “No, I really needed to pee,” Tessa said from inside a stall. “I think we’ve heard all we’re going to from this guy. Can we get out of here?”

  “Absolutely.”

  After Tessa finished, we stepped into the hallway. At the other end of the bar, the front door opened, and the light from outside blasted us. It had been raining, but even with the dreary weather, it was much brighter outside than in this dimly lit bar. It was so bright we couldn’t recognize who was standing in the doorway. Tessa and I crept back into the ladies’ room, leaving only a crack open that we could peek through.

  The bar’s door swung shut as the man sat down at the bar a few seats from where our beers were.

  It was Sheriff Harvey Poole.

  “Crap! What do we do now?” I asked Tessa. The sheriff would be displeased to see me, and he’d want to ask me questions I simply couldn’t—or wouldn’t—answer. Who knew what he might do?

  We looked around the dingy bathroom. I noticed Tessa eyeing the small window above the toilet in the stall.

  “Oh, no, Tessa. No,” I said.

  “Look, you’re the one who got us into trouble. Now I’ve got to get us out.” Tessa stared at me with her fiercest take-no-prisoners glare. I knew there was no way to convince her this was a lousy plan. In fact, it appeared to be our only option, unless I wanted to trot past the sheriff and hope I could run faster than he could, which was possible.

  “I give up,” I said, resigned to the inevitable. After closing the toilet lid, I climbed up, pushed the window open, and peered out. It was going to be a tight fit. Fortunately, the Ladybug was below the window. If we aimed right, we should be able to land on her soft ragtop.

  “Me first,” Tessa said. “I’ll need a boost.”

  “And what about me? Won’t I need a boost?”

  “You’re much taller than I am, you’ll be fine.”

  I stepped down from the toilet and Tessa took my place. She climbed onto the toilet tank and I stood on the seat once again, taking her heel in my hand and thrusting her headfirst out the window.

  “Che casino!” Tessa said. I could barely hear her since her head was outside, while the rest of her dangled in the window frame a foot above me. “What do I do now? I don’t want to go out this window head first. I’ll break my neck.”

  “Hoist yourself up onto the window sill and flip yourself around,” I said. Through a series of twists and turns, she finally disappeared out the window.

  I climbed on top of the toilet tank as Tessa had done and looked down at her.

  “Come on, your turn,” Tessa said, looking up at me.

  “I can’t do it. I don’t think I can do the origami move you did.”

  “I have an idea. Throw me your keys.”

  I rummaged through my handbag, found them, and tossed them down to her. She climbed into my car.

  “Tessa! Don’t you dare leave me behind,” I hissed. Calmly, Tessa pushed the button for the convertible roof, and as it unhooked, its front edge slid upward toward me. She stopped the roof when it had fully extended, and its frame was within arms’ reach from me.

  “Grab hold!” Tessa said, trying not to shout. I boosted myself onto the sill, grabbed hold of the top edge of the convertible’s roof frame, and held tight.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “Now you climb down.”

  “I’m stuck. I can’t get out the rest of the way. We’ve got to hurry. The bartender is probably starting to wonder what’s taking us so long.”

  “Hang on tight. I’ve got this.” She started driving slowly, gently pulling me from the window. Once I was freed, now clinging tightly to the hinged steel roof, Tessa stopped the car so I could climb the rest of the way down. She put the convertible’s top back in place while I, finally on solid ground, took a seat on the passenger’s side.

  “Whew! Made it,” I said.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Tessa said, driving the Ladybug out of the far side the parking lot, staying as far away from the sheriff’s patrol car as possible.

  We cruised along the twisting roads toward Carthage. As Tessa sped through a curve, I spotted a set of tire tracks heading off the road.

  “Stop the car,” I said. Tessa pulled to the side of the road, a few feet in front of where I’d seen the tracks. As soon as the car had stopped, I was out and looking over the edge of the roadway and into the ravine below. At the bottom of the gulch was Dez’s white vintage truck, the front half wrapped around the wide trunk of a fir.

  “Dez!” I called down to him. “Dez!” Tessa joined me in shouting down the hill toward the truck.

  “I’m going down there. You stay here so you can flag someone down if we need help,” I said as I started to climb down the hill toward the truck. The slope was steep and it was slow going as I scrambled through the branches and rocks. Finally, I made it to the truck, out of breath and wet to the knees. The windows of the truck were all broken out. I peered inside. Empty.

  “Dez!” I called as I searched around the vehicle. I found him near a large rock; his legs looked strange. They were pointed at an odd angle. “Oh my God, Dez!” I ran to him, falling to my knees beside him. “Dez?” His eyes were closed. I touched his face. It was warm.

  “Dez, can you hear me?”

  “Abby?”

  “No, it’s Jax. Tessa and I, we’re going to take care of you. You’re going to be fine. I promise.” I pulled out my phone and tried to call Tessa so I wouldn’t have to yell. There was no cell reception down in the ravine, so I resorted to shouting.

  “Tessa!” I shouted up the hill. “I found Dez. He’s alive! He needs an ambulance.”

  “I’m on it!” Tessa shouted back.

  “Someone is coming to help you. You’re going to be okay,” I said, trying to sound reassuring.

  “I need Abby.”

  “I hear you, Dez. I’ll make sure Abby knows you’re okay. Don’t you worry.”

  “Thirsty,” he said.

  “The ambulance will be here soon and one of the EMTs will help you.” I wasn’t sure if he should drink anything until the extent of his injuries were known. “When help arrives, I’m going to make myself scarce because things are a little complicated for me right now.” Namely, I didn’t want to run into Sheriff Poole.

  “You and Tessa, you’re good people.”

  And then it hit me. He didn’t know about Marco. At least I didn’t think he knew. The only way he could possibly know Marco was dead was if he were the killer or if he had witnessed the murder. I hated to take advantage of an injured man, but I needed to see what I could find out from him in the few minutes I had before the ambulance, or the sheriff, arrived. This might be my only chance, especially now while his defenses were down.

  “What do you think about Marco?” I asked, settling on a vague question to see where it might lead.

  “He’s a bastard. Always has been. I don’t know why I let Abby convince me to let him come,” Dez said, squeezing his eyes closed.

  “Having a lot of pain?”

  “Yeah, yeah, my damn legs hurt. I tried to get up and walk on them. Too much pain.”

  “You can wiggle your toes, right?”

  “Yep, they’re working, glad to say.”

  I didn’t think I could bring up Marco again, but I didn’
t have to. He did.

  “Hope Abby’s not had too much trouble dealing with Marco without me around. I’m feeling rotten for bailing on the class. I didn’t plan on being gone for so long, but then again, I didn’t plan on being down here in this gulch for the last day.” He didn’t know about Marco. I was certain.

  “Dez, I’ve got to tell you something. Then I’ve got to go because the sheriff is going to get here soon, and I really don’t want to have a conversation with him right now. Okay? I don’t know how to say this gently, so I’m going to come out and say it: Marco de Luca is dead. Someone murdered him, but we don’t know who.”

  “No—how can that be?”

  “I’m trying to find the killer. So, it would be great if you can tell me anything, anything at all, about what you saw on the first night of class, after everyone had gone.”

  “I wanted to go to this bar, but Marco said he didn’t want to go. He wanted to do some work in the hot shop and then call it a night. I guess after Katia told him to go to hell, he figured he didn’t have anything else to do. Crap, I guess he should have come out with me; maybe he’d be alive today if he had. Of course, he might have ended up down in this ravine with a couple of broken legs, but it beats the hell out of being dead.” That was for sure.

  Voices floated down from the road above us. That was my cue to get out of there.

  “Someone will be down to help you in a few minutes. I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”

  I scrambled up the hill, breaking out of the bushes near the Ladybug’s front bumper. I had a stitch in my side from climbing up the hill and found myself, once again covered in mud. Tessa was talking with the EMT, who was pulling his gear out of the back of the ambulance. There was no sign of the sheriff. I slid into the passenger seat of my car, breathing hard, and waited for her. Moments later, Tessa pulled herself into the Ladybug, and we took off. She drove at a more reasonable speed, after having seen what happened to Dez on this curving, dangerous road. I dialed Zachary.

  “It’s Jax,” I said when he answered.

  “I didn’t even need to look at caller ID. I knew it was going to be you. Don’t tell me you’re in trouble already.”