“I’ve got the perfect thing for these two beds.” I opened the box I was holding and pulled out one of Great-Aunt Rita’s exquisite handmade quilts, which Tessa and I had found in my attic. I shook it out and arranged it across one of the beds so we could see the whole thing.
“Oh, Jax, it’s brilliant,” Tessa said quietly, overwhelmed with the quilt’s beauty. “Aren’t you worried about giving them away?”
“I talked with Andy and Connie, and they both agreed that your girls should have the quilts. They’ll be pleased to know the quilts are being used and enjoyed, not collecting dust in my attic.”
“Instead, being used in mine.”
“Being used. That’s right. Precious handmade things deserve to be used and enjoyed.” I pulled out the second quilt and spread it out on the other bed.
“As beautiful as the first!” Tessa said, admiring the perfect floral calico squares that comprised the quilt, reminding me of the floral patterns we’d seen in the millefiori beads this week. I had to admit that by sheer chance, the quilts I’d given the girls coordinated perfectly with the pale green paint Rudy had used on the walls in the room. “Thank you, Jax,” Tessa said, giving me an enormous hug.
“So, what are you going to do with the extra bedroom the girls have left behind?” I asked.
“Same as you—I’m going to have my very own Bead Lair!”
“How did the girls like drama camp?”
“They loved it. Izzy had a lead role in ‘Grease.’ She was one of the Pink Ladies. It’s all she’s talked about since she got home. It turned out Ashley really liked working backstage on props, and she ended up as the show’s stage manager.”
“That’s terrific. And the boys?”
“They loved their time at Camp Grammy and can’t wait to go back, although I think Patsy may need a little help next time. She was exhausted after a nearly a week with Joey and Benny. Rosie and I are going to make her a special necklace as a thank-you gift.”
“Any news from Old Firehouse Studio?”
“It sounds like Dez is recovering from his accident. Both of his legs were fractured in multiple places. It’s going to be a while before he’s walking again, but he’s fortunate to be alive. According to Abby, he’s working on staying sober.”
“That’s great news. What’s going to happen to the studio now that Sam’s gone?”
“Katia is going to help out in the hot shop, and from the sounds of it there may be some sort of a partnership forming—and I don’t just mean professionally—between Katia and Dario.”
“That’s not surprising. She seemed smitten with him. Funny, she had such a different reaction with the two brothers.”
“It’s not surprising at all. I felt the same way about those two men. I never liked Marco, may he rest in peace, but Dario, I loved—”
“Loved?”
“Yes, Jax. I did love Dario, and I still do, but like a brother or a friend. With Marco and his parents gone, he could use the support of our family.” Tessa had done the same for me when I moved to Seattle. Since my family was so far away, she had invited me into hers, and my life was richer because of it. “He brought something by for you. It’s in the living room.”
“What is it?” I asked, as we headed downstairs.
“I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to open it.” Tessa handed me a tall box. Inside was a gorgeous vase covered in purple, green, and red murrine. I was certain Dario had made it himself. It took my breath away.
“Oh, Tessa. This is incredible.”
“He brought me one, too.” She pointed to another open box, the top of a vase sticking out of it.
“Why aren’t you displaying it?”
“Because I want your brother to have it. He was so sweet to let us stay with him, and he helped us figure out what was going on with Vickie and Carl Nest. And most important—the man has no art in his entire apartment.”
“That’s very generous. I’m sure he’ll love it.”
• • •
That evening as I tidied up my studio, I came across the small whale sculpture I’d found in the trunk with the quilts. Holding it in my hands, I couldn’t help but wonder about it. Why did my great-aunt save this treasure? I glanced up at the attic door. It was in need of renovation, especially with my nephew coming to visit in a few months. Tessa’s attic update had inspired me, but funding such a large project would be a challenge. Mr. Chu was interested in buying the carving, and from what he said, it might fetch a hefty sum, perhaps even enough to pay for the remodel. But could I part with it? I wasn’t sure. I felt it held the key to a mystery yet to be solved. I had some investigating to do before I was ready to let it go.
Val burst in my front door wearing a frilly light blue apron.
“Are you ready for some fried chicken?” Val asked, waving her kitchen tongs dramatically as she met me halfway down the hall.
“I do believe I am,” I said, making a detour into my bedroom. “I’ll be right there.” I placed the tiny ivory whale on my bedside stand and whispered a silent thank-you to Aunt Rita for all she had given me.
“Don’t be such a slowpoke,” Val shouted from the living room.
I sped toward the door and followed Val over to her side of the duplex. Uncle Freddie was sitting at the dinner table having a glass of wine.
Val offered me a seat across from Freddie and went out to the kitchen to get me a drink.
“Here’s some wine for you, Jax,” Val said, handing me a glass and setting a plate heaped with biscuits on the table.
“Smells terrific!” Freddie said. “When do we get to eat?”
“When our other guests arrive,” Val said.
“Other guests? Who—”
The doorbell rang and Val bustled to the door.
“For you, Ms. Roberts,” said Zachary, handing her a small bouquet of yellow roses.
“Oh my! Please, call me Val,” she said with a lady-like titter, taking the flowers and giving them a dainty sniff. “Come in, please. Here you are,” Val said, patting the seat next to me.
Zachary sat down. He had another rose bouquet, this one red, still in his hands.
“I brought you this,” Zachary said, handing me the flowers and looking at me a little longer than necessary.
“They’re lovely. Thank you,” I said, admiring the blossoms and placing the bouquet next to my plate.
“Zachary, this is Freddie, and Freddie, Zachary,” I said introducing the men.
“Nice to meet you,” Zachary said, unfazed by meeting one of the best rock-n-roll guitarists of all time. I subtly turned to Zachary and whispered, “Isn’t it exciting to hang out with the great Freddie Roberts?”
“Seems like a nice guy,” Zachary said. One of the many amazing things about Zachary was that he wasn’t easily flustered, except when talking with women—or at least with me.
“How’s everything going with Tessa?” Val asked.
“The top floor of her house is like new now that Rudy and the contractors are done. They slipped in under the deadline and just finished up a few hours before everyone got home.”
“I’m glad they got done in time. Now Rudy can go to the convention with me next week. He’s coming by in a little while to show me his costume. Do you want to see mine?”
Without waiting for an answer, Val trotted off to change. Minutes later, she reappeared in her flowing Princess Leia costume, complete with a wig that looked like she had a cinnamon bun over each ear. The dress was perfect for her curvy figure. She swished around the room so we could get a look at her from all sides.
“Fantastic! But what happened to the stormtrooper outfit?” I asked.
“You know, I couldn’t make that work. I had all of this,” Val gestured to her voluptuous figure, “and a hard, plastic shell just couldn’t contain it.”
That was the truth. Nothing cou
ld contain Val and her big personality. A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and in came Rudy in his authentic Luke Skywalker costume.
“Hey everyone. May the force be with you,” Rudy said, owning his nerdy Star Wars attitude.
“Doesn’t he look faboo?” Val asked.
“He does. But, I always thought he was more of a Han Solo type,” I said.
“I’m going to find a Han Solo to call my very own, so Rudy has to be someone else, like Luke. You see, Luke is Leia’s brother, so that’s sort of like Rudy. And then Han—”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it to me.” Val always had more to say about sci-fi than I had patience to hear.
I grabbed the bottle of chardonnay off the table and poured myself another glass.
“Would you like some?” I asked Freddie.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He took a sip “This is marvelous—buttery with a nutty afterglow.”
Freddie was full of surprises—a rock legend and a wine connoisseur.
“Freddie, did you find that business opportunity you were looking for?” I asked.
“As a matter of fact, I did. It’s a ways out of town from here. A funky little town called Carthage.”
“Carthage!” Zachary and I said, astounded.
“I found a little café that’s for sale. It looks like it would be an excellent business opportunity—you know, a way to cash in on my name. The couple wants to sell their restaurant and move closer to Tacoma.”
“You’re going to buy the Robin’s Nest Café?” I asked.
“Yeah, you know it? I’m going to make it into a rock-n-roll themed restaurant. It’s going to be awesome after I redecorate it with some of the memorabilia from my band’s concert tours. I’ve already got some investors interested. I even found a little house to rent until I can build something custom.”
This meant Carl and Vickie would finally be able to move closer to their daughter and afford the care she needed to completely rehabilitate. With the updated restaurant, along with more people visiting Carthage, I hoped that meant Old Firehouse Studio wouldn’t struggle to find customers for their glass art and classes.
“Was it Sam who cut Dez’s brake lines?” I asked Zachary.
“After being treated for his burns, Sam decided to confess to everything. He had gone to The Office with the hope of having an alibi after killing Marco. Apparently, Dez had been doing a little sleuthing of his own. He realized Sam was the culprit in the hit-and-run accident, and he confronted him at the bar.”
“So, Sam tried to kill Dez to cover up the hit-and-run?” I asked.
“It appears to be the case. From the sound of it, Sam left the bar, sliced the brake lines of Dez’s car in the parking lot and then figured that in combination with the large quantity of alcohol Dez consumed, it would lead to a fatal crash,” Zachary said. “Thanks to you, Jax—you helped us find a connection between a damaged bumper at the car repair shop that matches the make and model of Sam Tilden’s pickup, which you found in the storage unit behind Old Firehouse Studio. Tony Stein at the garage is going back through his records to check the timing of the repair to see if it coincides with the hit-and-run.”
I was stunned. Zachary had actually thanked me for helping solve a crime.
“Wow. Did you just thank me?”
“Ahem, I uh—“ Zachary sputtered. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“You’re welcome. Do you think Sheriff Poole is grateful, too?”
“I wouldn’t push your luck,” he said with a smile.
There was a knock at the front door. Val opened it and ushered in Ryan Shaw. I waved and smiled, although I felt awkward seeing him.
“Hello, Officer Shaw.” Zachary rose and shook Ryan’s hand. Zachary’s grip might have been a little firmer than was absolutely necessary, judging by the twinge of pain that crossed Ryan’s face.
“Uh, well, actually, it’s no longer Officer Shaw,” Ryan said. “I’ve officially left the Seattle Police Department.”
My jaw dropped.
“I had a few infractions and, well, as a new officer, the higher-ups didn’t think much of my actions going above and beyond the call of duty.” He’d overstepped the limits of his position, so I wasn’t surprised to hear Ryan’s commanding officers were unhappy with some of his questionable actions, including handing me a Get Out of Jail Free card.
We all mumbled our condolences.
“But—I’ve already got something new lined up, thanks to Val and her Uncle Freddie.”
“What?” I asked.
“Personal security for Freddie. Thanks for introducing me to him, Val. Of course, Jax, you’re the one who sent me over here in the first place, so I guess I owe you my gratitude as well.”
“You’re going to be Freddie’s bodyguard?”
Freddie nodded. “That’s right. And all-around personal assistant.”
Incredible. Absolutely incredible. I could say one thing about Ryan, he certainly knew how to land on his feet.
“I came by to pick up your suitcases and take them out to your new place,” Ryan said to Freddie. The two men headed to Val’s spare room, grabbed the bags, and Ryan was on his way out the door. I was relieved he wasn’t staying. It was a little too awkward having both Ryan and Zachary in the same room with each other, the tension between them nearly palpable.
I studied Rudy in his Luke Skywalker costume, looking every bit as authentic as Val did, and I was certain they’d fit right in at the Burien UFO Festival. He had settled in at the table and struck up a conversation with Freddie while Val, having loaded the table with dishes of mashed potatoes, green beans with almonds, and a platter of delicious fried chicken, whipped off her apron and plopped into the chair next to Rudy.
“To friends,” Val said, raising her wine glass.
“And family,” Uncle Freddie added.
“To friends and family,” Zachary and I chimed in.
We dug in to Val’s feast and it was every bit as delicious as we hoped it would be. Her cooking skills had definitely improved.
“And now the grand finale,” Val said, heading to the kitchen for dessert. She returned with an enormous carrot cake.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I can eat another bite. So, what do you say I play you guys a few songs until we’re ready for dessert?” Freddie asked, grabbing his guitar case from beside the sofa.
“Absolutely,” I said. “I think we should go out to my back patio.”
The rain had finally stopped and the sky was clear. We dragged some chairs outside. Freddie sat on the studio steps and started strumming his guitar. We listened to him play all of our favorite rock songs, singing along at times. After a while, Mr. Chu came out, stood on his back porch with a longhaired calico in his arms, and listened, too. Val retrieved the cake from her kitchen, and gave us each a slice. She took one across the alley and gave it to Mr. Chu, who smiled appreciatively and may have decided—just a little—that people weren’t so bad, after all.
“And now, I’m going to sing one for my favorite four-footed friends,” Freddie said, playing the first few chords of Elvis Presley’s “Hound Dog.”
“Ah-roo!” Stanley howled in appreciation. We all joined in singing and howling along with Freddie and the dog.
It was a marvelous way to end a week that had not been what I’d expected. I’d learned some things about myself—for one, I’d never be a glassblower, but I was content to be a glass beadmaker for as long as I could. Zachary reached over and grasped my hand as we swayed to the music on this starlit night and pulled me toward him. It was a wonderful night for kissing, and maybe a little bit more.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to give an enormous thank-you to all the wonderful and patient people who have helped me make this book a reality. Thanks to my beta reading team, whose early feedback on my manuscr
ipt is greatly appreciated. A huge thanks goes out to Ellen Margulies, my supportive editor, who finds all the little—and not so little—problems that I simply can’t see when I’m hip-deep in words. Thanks to David Patchen, a talented glass artist who uses murrine in all of his gorgeous work, for helping with the glassblowing details in this book. Thanks, as well, to beadologist Frederick Chavez for his advice on antique Venetian beads, including the information he gathered from the smart folks at beadcollector.net. I want to give a shout out to Jim and Karen O’Malley who have kept me on the up-and-up when it comes to P.D. and 911 procedures for all of my books.
And last, but certainly not least, my love and thanks to Jeff Peacock, the best husband I’ve ever had. (Also, the only husband I’ve ever had.) He has always believed in me, and for that, I am forever grateful.
About the Author
Janice Peacock decided to write her first mystery novel after working in a glass studio full of colorful artists who didn’t always get along. They reminded her of the quirky and often humorous characters in the murder mystery books she loves to read. Inspired by that experience, she combined her two passions and wrote High Strung, the first book in the Glass Bead Mystery Series featuring glass beadmaker Jax O’Connell. Janice has continued the series with A Bead in the Hand, and Be Still My Beading Heart, A Glass Bead Mini-Mystery.
When Janice isn’t writing about glass artists-turned-amateur-detectives, she creates glass beads using a torch, designs one-of-a-kind jewelry, and makes sculptures using hot glass. Her work has been exhibited internationally and is in the permanent collections of the Corning Museum of Glass, the Glass Museum of Tacoma, WA, and in private collections worldwide.
Janice lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two cats, and an undisclosed number chickens. She has a studio full of beads...lots and lots of beads.
Connect with Janice Peacock
www.JanicePeacock.com
[email protected]
www.blog.janicepeacock.com
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Off the Beadin' Path, Glass Bead Mystery Series, Book 3 Page 20