String of Lies

by Hughes, MaryEllen

  “Right. Mallory Holt was seldom around when Sylvia came. If she was, she usually took off within minutes. She was involved in things like the Junior League and such. Parker obviously knew his wife’s schedule and Sylvia’s too.” Carrie paused and gave Jo a significant look.

  “So he thought he could set up a little fun with the maid during the day,” Jo filled in.

  Carrie nodded. “Sylvia said she tried her best to discourage his advances, but she ended up having to quit altogether. She was in her early stages of pregnancy and she told Mallory Holt she was feeling too ill, though she continued working at her other homes. Mallory Holt had paid well, though, and Sylvia didn’t know how to explain leaving there to Xavier. When he questioned her she became upset, and it all came out.

  “He was furious, of course, and she had to beg him not to confront Holt. Sylvia finally convinced Xavier that a fight with Holt might jeopardize their chances of bringing Xavier’s younger brother here from Mexico. They saw Holt as a powerful man who could make more trouble for them if he chose to.”

  “So that was the reason for Xavier’s dark mood whenever Holt came by.”

  “Dan told you about that? Yes, poor Xavier. Dan had no idea what he was forcing him to do, refurbishing the home of the man who had sexually harassed his wife.”

  “I don’t know about forcing, Carrie. After all, Xavier could have said no, couldn’t he?”

  “That’s probably what the police are thinking, Jo. That Xavier worked the job solely for the chance to take his revenge on Holt. They don’t see that he really didn’t have much choice in the matter. Xavier needed the income. His wife is having their baby soon. The only other construction jobs around here were with Holt’s own crew, which would have meant encountering Holt even more—long term. At least Dan’s job was short term.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Plus Dan, who knows Xavier pretty well, says if he were inclined to murder at all—which we know he wasn’t—he wouldn’t do it in this underhanded way. He would go face to face, giving Holt a fighting chance.”

  “They haven’t actually charged Xavier, though, have they?” Jo asked.

  “No. But I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time, unless they come up with a better suspect.”

  Jo thought for a while. “If Holt was behaving that way toward Sylvia, I’ll bet she wasn’t his only victim. I imagine there might be a few other husbands, or angry women, with motives just as strong as Xavier’s.”

  Carrie’s face took on its first glimmer of hope. “I’ll bet there are.”

  “And who knows what other enemies he might have had from other areas. Don’t give up hope yet, Carrie. I suspect that with a little shaking, a few beads just might fall off the string.”

  That evening, Jo was reminded of her brave words to Carrie as she set her boxes of beads about the table for the earring workshop. She had thrown out the probability of other suspects for Carrie’s sake, with little idea if it had any weight to it. But she hoped so.

  Though she’d never met him, Jo felt nearly as bad for Xavier as Carrie did. He hadn’t been charged and was free to be home with his wife. But that freedom, as Jo well knew, would be far from worry-free while the axe still hovered over his neck, ready, at the first signal, to fall. Xavier and Sylvia, she was sure, must be going through hell.

  Was Lieutenant Morgan convinced Xavier was the one?

  Jo wondered. Should she try to talk to him about this? No, she’d better talk to Xavier first. While Jo couldn’t imagine Sylvia choosing to marry a man who would step on an ant, much less commit homicide, and Carrie and Dan were no slouches at judging character, nevertheless, she wanted to see for herself.

  Jo thought of the mind-jarring turn of events. Just a few short hours ago her worries had centered on the effect Holt’s death could have on Dan’s small business if the death was caused by his negligence. Dan’s professional reputation would certainly be shredded, and his and Carrie’s income severely diminished.

  But the effect could be just as devastating if Xavier were charged with murder. Xavier was Dan’s employee, and they had worked together closely for the time leading up to the murder. The collateral damage to Dan and Carrie was undeniable. Jo hoped that a murder charge would never come, but the fact remained that the longer Xavier was considered a “person of interest” the harder the mud would stick—to everyone concerned.

  Jo went back to her storeroom to get the Vellux work pads for the group. As she pulled them out of their box, surrounded by her myriad crafting supplies, she was reminded that the question about her shop’s future still remained, though temporarily buried beneath this rock slide of events. What would Parker Holt’s death mean to her shop? She still didn’t know if he had in fact bought her building, since Max had never returned her calls. For all she knew he was sailing out of reach somewhere in the Caribbean sipping margaritas.

  If Max had sold out, how did Holt’s death affect things? Would whatever plans he had for her building still be carried out? Jo needed to track down the answer to that question in addition to the others that had rolled onto her doorstep.

  But for the moment, she thought, as she tossed the work pads about the table, her central question needed to be how to teach her novices the techniques of beading. So she’d best set these concerns aside.

  The shop’s door opened, and Javonne Barnett sailed in. “Hey, Jo! Wow, isn’t that a shock about Parker Holt?”

  So much for setting anything aside.

  “You’re early, Javonne. No late patients tonight?”

  Javonne worked with her husband Harry, a dentist, and Jo was used to seeing Javonne dash in late for workshops, full of legitimate excuses involving last-minute dental emergencies. Usually dressed in medical whites, Javonne looked particularly chic this evening as she pulled off her coat to reveal a burnt orange and tan outfit that complimented her mocha complexion nicely.

  “We actually had time to go out to dinner!” Javonne exclaimed. “Harry’s mom is watching the kids, and Harry went off to Baltimore to give a seminar. Dental implants. Sounds like fun, huh? So what about all this with Parker Holt?” Javonne dropped her wrap on the “coat chair,” so designated because of the two wobbly legs that made it a less desirable seat. She pitched in to help Jo open the bead boxes spread over the table.

  Jo drew a breath to speak, but then the shop’s door flew open once more, ushering in a draft of January chill countered by the warm smiles of Loralee Phillips and Ina Mae Kepner.

  “Jo, dear,” Loralee said, hurrying up to Jo, her ever-present large tote on her arm, “are you sure you’re up to this? You must have had a terrible couple of days, not to mention poor Carrie. She’s not here, is she?” Loralee looked over to Carrie’s knitting area with motherly concern. A petite, white-haired woman, not much bigger than her outsized bag, Loralee always seemed on the verge of pulling out jars of homemade chicken soup and checking foreheads for fever.

  “No, Carrie’s home tonight,” Jo said.

  “Good,” Ina Mae pronounced. She pulled off her long coat and pushed up the sleeves of her blue velour warm-up jacket, ready to get down to work. After greeting Javonne, she glanced around. “Vernon’s not here yet?”

  “Vernon?” Javonne asked. “Vernon who?”

  “Vernon Dobson. Former proprietor of Dobson’s Meats. Ever go there?” Ina Mae asked.

  “Lord, yes, all the time. But that sweet man who kept my family in excellent steaks and hamburger is coming tonight to make beaded earrings?”

  Ina Mae didn’t need to answer as the “sweet man” himself appeared, red-cheeked and blinking as he paused inside the shop’s door.

  “Good evening, Vernon,” Ina Mae called. “How nice to see you.”

  Vernon Dobson pulled the baseball cap off his balding head and joined the group, unzipping his jacket. “Mrs. Kepner,” he said, nodding.

  “Oh, we’re all on a first-name basis, Vernon,” Jo said. “I believe you know Javonne. And Loralee?”

  “Yes indee
d,” Loralee said, bobbing her white curls.

  “Drop your things over there,” Jo said, pointing to the pile of coats, “and grab a seat at the table. We’re just about ready to begin.”

  Vernon settled in along with the others, folding his hands over the purple and white Raven’s sweatshirt stretched over his well-fed middle as he placidly waited. Jo noticed that Javonne seemed unable to keep from staring, as though still struggling to fit her former butcher with this beading workshop classmate. Jo smiled to herself and got down to business. She picked up a silver pin, about two inches long, and held it up for them to see.

  “This, ladies—and gentleman—is what we will use to build our first earring,” she said. “It’s sterling silver, and it has, as you see, this little flat head at one end to hold the beads on.

  “Spread over the table are boxes of beads, separated by color, size, shape—you name it—as well as spacers, bead caps, and such. Just about everything you could want to put on this pin to create your drop earring.”

  “Oh, my, they’re beautiful, but there’s so many,” Loralee cried. “How do we know what to use?”

  “I know!” Javonne agreed. “Look at all of them. They’re all gorgeous! What are these black ones, Jo?”

  “Those are black agate. And over here are turquoise, then amber, and cat’s eye, all the gemstone beads. Then these,” she moved to another large group, “are the crystals, in so many beautiful colors. Here,” she said, pointing out yet another group, “are the metals—sterling silver, gold, pewter, and cloisonné.”

  Jo picked up a box of beads she particularly liked. “And aren’t these wooden beads wonderful? Just look at the carving on them.”

  The women oohed, agreeing.

  “I realize it’s overwhelming at first,” Jo said. “But for now, just try to keep it fairly simple. Pick your color scheme for your earrings, as well as the size of beads. Play around with them until you find a combination you like. I’ll show you the basics, but then go with your own taste. Now, to begin . . .”

  Jo demonstrated how to slip a round bead onto the head pin, then a spacer and a second larger bead. She made a wrapped loop above her second bead by bending the wire with her chain nose pliers, looping it, and twisting her wire tail around the wire stem above the bead, clipping the excess and pressing the end tightly to the stem with crimping pliers. She attached an earring wire—the little hook that would slip through a pierced ear—by opening the loop at the end of that wire, slipping it onto her wrapped loop above the beads, then closing it securely. The group watched, transfixed.

  Jo held it out. “There you go. One beaded earring. What do you think?”

  “I think I’ll never be able to do that,” Javonne said. “You’re going to have to draw me a few pictures, Jo.”

  “It’s lovely!” Loralee cried. “And you made it look so easy.”

  “It really is easy, once you get the hang of it. I’ll go through it a few more times, guys. Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up. And tonight you’ll be going home with your very own, custom-designed earrings.” Jo noticed that Vernon was already quietly picking through the bead boxes.

  “My plan is to make a pair for one of my daughters,” Ina Mae stated, looking over the selection.

  “Not me,” Javonne said, shaking her head. “I’m aiming to have earrings to match all my outfits. How about you, Loralee? You making these for yourself or your daughter?”

  Jo looked over at Loralee and was surprised to see a pained look cross her face, which was quickly replaced with a weak smile to Javonne. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll just make them and then decide what to do with them. You have so many lovely beads here, Jo! I don’t know how I’ll narrow it down.”

  “Vernon’s not having any trouble, I see,” Ina Mae put in. The women all turned to look. Vernon had transferred several oval-shaped beads and silver spacers to the Vellux work pad before him and was busily lining them up in a striking combination.

  “Ooh, I like that,” Javonne said.

  Vernon looked up. “Evelyn—my wife—likes blue. And silver,” he added matter-of-factly.

  “Yes, but the ones you picked . . .” Javonne’s voice trailed off, clearly impressed. “Do you think you could choose a combination for me? To go with what I’m wearing tonight?”

  Vernon glanced over, took in Javonne’s outfit, and said,

  “Sure.”

  Jo smiled. It appeared she had a natural in the class. She watched as Vernon’s stubby fingers hovered over the myriad of bead boxes, pausing, dipping, moving on, selecting, until he had several in the palm of his hand that he was satisfied with. He handed them over to Javonne, saying simply, “Here you go.”

  Jo caught Ina Mae’s eye, which twinkled back at her. Who would have thought, she seemed to say, such talent lurked in the heart of the man who had cut her chops and trimmed her roasts each week?

  The group got busy, trying to manipulate the wires as Jo has shown them, a silence settling over them as they focused. Eventually, though, conversation returned, and it centered on Parker Holt.

  Jo listened to their comments on what they clearly still thought of as an accident, uncertain about passing on what Carrie had told her. But memories of how the group had aided her in the past by tracking down useful information when she needed it most, helped her decide.

  “Guys,” she said, when their chatter came to a pause, “there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

  Chapter 7

  All heads at the workshop table tilted upward at Jo’s words, and all fingers, whether poised to slip a spacer on the pin or squeeze chain nose pliers on a wire, froze in mid-action. Jo spilled out the details of Parker Holt’s murder, including Xavier Ramirez’s grim situation as prime suspect, and saw the faces before her reflect many of the emotions she herself had felt, all resolving into “solemn.”

  “Murder!” Javonne said. “I thought Parker Holt had broken his neck falling down the steps.”

  “This certainly puts a whole new light on things,” Ina Mae said.

  Loralee’s hand had flown to her mouth, but slid away as she said, “That poor man.”

  “Holt?” Jo asked.

  “No, I mean Xavier. Parker Holt’s troubles are over. Xavier Ramirez’s are just beginning.”

  “That’s the truth,” Javonne said.

  “Carrie and Dan,” Jo said, “are positive Xavier would never have done what the police suspect him of. But the trouble is he seems to be the only one in their sights. Can any of you come up with other possibilities? Someone who might have wanted Holt dead?”

  “And had the opportunity too,” Ina Mae added.

  “Of course.”

  “And the means,” Loralee put in. “That person would have to understand wiring and electricity.”

  “Yes, the setup Carrie described to me sounded fairly complicated,” Jo agreed.

  “A person on Holt’s work crew? An electrician?” Javonne offered.

  “It wouldn’t have to be an electrician,” Vernon said, speaking for the first time on the subject. The ladies turned to him in some surprise as though they had forgotten he was there. Jo noticed his earrings lay finished on his work pad and were quite well done. “I mean,” he said, “I know that much about grounding and all, and I’m not a licensed electrician. I just learned enough working around the house and on my car to keep from killing myself.”

  “A good point, Vernon,” Ina Mae said. “And we all know how easily things can be picked up when needed, nowadays. The Internet is filled with information and instructions—even for making bombs, I understand. Someone like Loralee or me, for instance, could probably teach ourselves how to do just what Jo described.”

  “Assuming,” Loralee added with a rueful smile, “we knew how to work the Internet in the first place.”

  “Well, that opens up the possibilities, doesn’t it, Jo?” Javonne said.

  “Too wide,” Jo agreed. “Can we narrow it down to people who might have a good reason to
want Parker Holt dead?”

  “He was making money hand over fist, from what I heard,” Javonne said. “That could make a few enemies along the way, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Definitely,” Loralee agreed. “But which one of them would strike against him in this way? In Parker’s own home? It seems more personal, doesn’t it, I mean rather than a business sort of enemy.”

  “Plus there’s the question of getting into his house,” Ina Mae said. “How many people would be able to do that? A pricey home like that must have had security protection, which I assume Dan and Xavier would have been able to turn off as needed in order to come and go. Xavier, I’m sorry to say, Jo, fits the bill very well what with having a personal grudge against the man as well as easy opportunity, not to mention the knowledge and tools available.”