Bead onTrouble

by Barbara Burnett Smith

"But it's exactly what I'd expect from you."

  This woman had a chip on her shoulder about the size of the Rocky Mountains, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out what it had to do with me—if it had anything. I decided that retreat was the best way to respond.

  "Now, if you'll excuse me—" I started for the door but Lynn stepped in front of me. She was about the most obnoxious person I've ever met, but even so, I drew the line at pushing her out of my way. "I'd like you to move," I said.

  "If you don't mind—"

  "Oh, but I do mind. I mind a lot." She wasn't sneering now; she was genuinely furious. She stepped closer so I could smell her musky perfume and her heavy breath. "I mind that you even exist?'

  What in the world was I supposed to say to that? I might have asked her, but I figured that would just give her more reason to go after me, "I beg your pardon?"

  "It is way too late to beg my pardon—"

  "Okay, well, whatever you say." I could hear some women coming up the pathway below us, and I recognized Sande's laugh. I didn't particularly want them to hear Lynn ranting at me. Truth is, I didn't want them knowing what I'd been doing.

  "I'm leaving now," I said, stepping around Lynn, "unless you'd like to keep me here by force?" Big talk, since I'd already opened the door.

  Lynn turned to face me, and the sneer was back. "By all means, go right ahead. I'll talk to Officer Peterson in the morning. Oh, and say hi to all the girls as you pass them on the path. They'll be my witnesses that you were up here."

  There is a term for women like Lynn and Pd have reminded her of it, if I hadn't been in such a hurry to leave. I took the stairs two at a time, and then, instead of taking the path, I turned the other way and fumbled along the back of the cabin in the dark. It was behavior more fitting a child or a criminal, but I was feeling like both.

  Most of the wooden slats were down to cover the screens, and I had no light except the little bit that peered out through the cracks. Served me right. I should have stood up to Lynn and demanded to know why she disliked me so much. Trouble is, I've got enough sins in my past to figure she had good reason. Now isn't that disgusting?

  There was a slight gully on the far side, and I held on to a prickly tree to get around the corner without mishap. By that time, I wasn't far from the sleeping porch door and a fairly even pathway to walk on. I could hear voices, Beth's and Shannan's.

  I was more than relieved when I grabbed the door handle and pulled. It didn't budge. "Hey," I whispered as loudly as I dared. "Open up_ It's me."

  I heard a lock clicking, and then Beth was standing there with her frizzy hair outlined in the light. "Where have you been? We've been worried."

  "With good cause," I said, grateful to be inside.

  "What happened?" Beth asked. Her table was back in the corner with a partially made necklace on it. It looked like it would complement the flat bracelet she'd created yesterday. Beading away her worries.

  Shannan said, "And why do you have pine needles in your hair?"

  I pulled them out, then flopped on my bunk. "I was slinking around the outside of the cabin, hoping no one would see me."

  Jennifer looked confused, "Why would you do that?"

  "Not important. Did any of you find anything?"

  "Nothing, and you didn't answer us, which by the way, is becoming a bad habit." Beth sat back down and picked up her beading. "Why were you sneaking around outside?

  And what happened?"

  "Because Lynn Donaldson caught me upstairs, and I panicked." I put my pillow on my stomach, which was feeling pretty queasy. "What are you making?"

  "Something to show the Tivolini buyer in the morning.

  It's not nearly what I wanted her to see, but on short notice, it's the best I can do. I just can't believe Lynn caught you—

  of course, it would have to be her. I hope you told her to stuff it up her beaded head!"

  "Not exactly. Who is she, anyway? She seems to have some terrible grudge against me."

  "I told you all I know about her. She was married to a partner in the law firm," Beth said. "I'll bet Sande would know more:'

  Tll talk to her tomorrow—maybe she can tell me why Lynn hates me so. I didn't tell you, Lynn says that in the morning, she's going to tell-Peterson I was stealing."

  "You've never stolen anything in your life!" Beth snapped. "How dare she talk about you like that. Oh, Kitz, I'm so sorry. Here you were just trying to help me, and now you're in trouble. What does she say you took?"

  I pulled my hand out of my pocket. "This bead."

  "She's talking to Peterson about one bead?"

  Shannan asked. "You could have found it on the floor—"

  "But I didn't. I did steal it."

  "Why would you do that?" Jennifer asked.

  "Because I wanted Beth to see it. Could this be a fugi-tive bead from one of your chandelier pieces?"

  Beth looked at the bead, then at me. "Mine weren't sapphire—they were pale. An icy blue."

  I didn't know whether to be relieved or upset. "Well, hell."

  I was going to jail for kidnapping an innocent bead.

  The one thing I can do is sleep—especially when the pressure's on. I slept hard and woke to a soft rumbling sound. When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring into a pair of big, round, light blue eyes. Sinatra was sitting by my neck, waiting for me like a furry little vulture.

  "What are you doing out here?" I asked. Naturally he didn't respond; I hadn't expected him to I sat up, and my head reminded me of an the wine I had consumed. Then came the memory of Beth's missing sample pieces and how we'd gone searching for them like a group of overaged and overzealous Nancy Drews. It actually hadn't been a bad idea, if I'd been more sober.

  And if I hadn't been caught.

  Add that to my ramming stunt of the other night, and I was on a roll.

  If Lynn Donaldson real y did decide to talk to Officer Peterson, I was in big trouble; it would be a great excuse for him to insist on another chat. I hadn't much liked the first one we'd had, and I didn't want a second. Secrets are hard to hide when you're face to face with someone like him.

  In the future, I would limit my activities to those that were legal and completely, mostly, ethical. I intended to get started on them immediately.

  I sat up. The bunks around me were all empty; between the alcohol and the guilt I had slept not only hard, but long.

  "So, what are you doing out here?" I asked Sinatra as I climbed out of my bunk. "I've got lots to do today, and you're supposed to be in your cage."

  I fed him, and while he crunched away I caught sight of myself in the round mirror Shannan had hung on the wail.

  My hair looked like curly hay gone amok. Worse, my face looked like my mother's, but without her careful makeup.

  The expression wasn't as cheerful as my mother's, either.

  I told Sinatra, "In case I get arrested or even questioned again, I'd like a little more armor than just a day's worth of dirt. I'm going to take a shower and do my hair?' I opened my suitcase and fished out clean underwear. I was bent over digging out my cosmetic case when claws sank into my rear end.

  "Sinatra!" He was hanging off the back of my sweatpants. I reached around and unhooked him "That is a very bad habit," I said, "and you have got to stop doing it." He purred, and I picked up my things. "I can't take you with me to the John, but you can come along to a demonstration or two later. Deal?"

  He didn't say no, so I put him back in his cage. His yowl told me he was not a happy boy. "You can't do everything your way, even if your name is Sinatra?'

  I went to shower, and by the time I was spiffy enough to face the day, and anyone who might be in it, a bell was ringing at the dining hall. There were no other campers around, leaving me to assume it wasn't last call, but the too-late-it's-over bell. I was right, because when I got to the dining hall, I had to go to the kitchen for leftovers. I ended up with an extra dollop of scrambled eggs to make up for the absence of bacon or toast. I did get a large c
up of hot coffee to wash them down.

  The dining hall was almost empty, and the clock showed that it was five after nine. I stared at it and swore softly under my breath. Beth was already meeting with the Tivolini buyer, and I hadn't said good luck or break a leg, or anything. I hoped she'd gotten an encouraging send-off from Shannan and her other friends, since I had been remiss.

  If only Beth had the chandelier set to show the buyer, she'd be walking out of the meeting with a contract, but obviously someone hadn't wanted that to happen. Someone who knew that Beth was one of the best.

  As I stood there, eggs in one hand, coffee in the other, I had a realization. What if May had been killed to stop her from presenting to Tivolini? We'd all dismissed that because it seemed so ridiculous, but it was really about money. People kill for money all the time. And what if the murderer had planned to kill Beth, too, but for some reason changed her mind and had just stolen Beth's pieces? I shuddered. Beth was so dear; how could some no-talent moron . . . Wait. If I'd hit on the reason, then it meant that whoever killed May was a contender for the contract, too.

  It couldn't be a rubber stamper or a vendor.

  And then I remembered that just before dinner last night, Leesa had said she was going to the dining hall, but I'd found her at the cabin not five minutes later. She said she'd been playing with Sinatra, but that was pure hooey. I hated to think that Cordy's niece was a thief. She wasn't even a header, was she? Which meant if she'd taken the chandelier pieces, it was to wear them and show them off.

  Which shot my theory all to hell and distressed me even more because despite her slightly arrogant ways, I liked Leesa. She said what she thought, and I appreciate that.

  "Kitzi?" Angie Hogencamp waved a hand in front of my face. "Are you okay?"

  "Oh, sure, I'm fine. I'm looking for a place to sit." The dining room was almost empty.

  "Come join us. I can't stay long, but I've got a few minutes."

  Angie led me to a table near the door where Tony Campanelli was sitting. TC and AH. I couldn't for the life of me see Angie killing anyone, and she didn't have a reason for wanting May dead. Tony did.

  He looked tired, and there was a streak of dark stubble along his chin as if he hadn't been too attentive to his shav-ing. This was not our usual Tony.

  "Mind if I join you?" I asked.

  He didn't even look up to see who it was. "Help yourself:' His hands were wrapped around what looked like a very cold cup of coffee.

  "Are you okay?" I asked as I sat down:"You don't look too chipper."

  He glanced at my face. "Look who's talking. I'm not an hour late for breakfast"

  "Big night last night?" Angie asked me.

  "No, I didn't do anything last night—I just overslept."

  That appeared to wake Tony up. "Oh, right."

  "What does that mean?" I asked.

  "I just heard some things," he said.

  "About?" I asked. His mouth moved, and it looked like a grin, as if whatever he'd heard was not going to be fun for me to hear. "Go ahead; I can take it," I said.

  "Spit it out, Tony," Angie said. "Gossip and secrets are no fun if you don't share them."

  He didn't hesitate. "Well, someone was telling me how Kitzi had a little too much to drink last night," he said.

  Angie waved that away. "We're at camp. We're supposed to let loose."

  "Yes, but Kitzi's drinking might have, hmmm, how shall I say this? It might have 'headed' her for some real trouble." He looked directly at me and grinned.

  "Gee, I wonder who told you that," I muttered. Then I started eating, because I knew the answer, didn't care to hear it, and hadn't really meant to ask the question.

  Tony laughed outright this time. "Well, it .wasn't a little bird."

  Angie looked from Tony to me. "What is he talking about?"

  "Something of Beth's was missing last night," I said. "I went searching for it. Not a big deal."

  "Except she was looking in somebody else's things—"

  "I was looking at her work," I corrected. I turned to Tony. "You're making it sound like I was doing something wrong, and I wasn't."

  "Whose work were you looking at?" Angie asked.

  "The header from the Dark Side," I said.

  Angie frowned. "Darth Beader?"

  "Pretty close. Lynn Donaldson. The lady with the Hummer Two. The one who brought you a wine cooler yesterday."

  "Oh, yes. The one who says that men and sex are the root of all evil." Angie stood up and stretched. "Guess that would apply to you, too, Tony." He almost choked on his coffee, but Angie was picking up a sack of change, so she didn't notice. I certainly did.

  "See you," Angie said. "I have to go open my booth.

  Good luck on your meeting with Tivolini," she finished to Tony, then headed out.

  "So, Tony, how do you know Lynn?" I asked. "Old buddies? New friends?"

  "Who said I know her?"

  It was a cool response, but I'd seen the look on his face.

  He knew Lynn, and I didn't think it was all that pleasant an association. "I do. Among others." I sipped some coffee and kept looking at him, waiting for more.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

  "No kidding. Really?"

  "Yes, really."

  "Then don't tell me about the two of you, just tell me about Lynn."

  He seemed suspicious. "Why would you want to know about her?"

  "Because the woman seems to have a grudge against me, and I can't think why. Oh, and by the way, Beth says I have an annoying habit of answering a question with a question.

  It seems you have it, too, and she's right, it's very annoying." I pushed my plate aside. "So what about Lynn?"

  He looked around carefully before he said, "You can't repeat any of this."

  "Promise."

  'Well, you know I work pretty closely with the Bead Place, right?" I nodded. "That's where I first met Lynn. At a demonstration. Then about a week later, Lynn and Marcie, the owner, had a falling out. Seems Lynn thought Marcie was going to have her start doing demonstrations, except Lynn had misunderstood. Marcie had actually scheduled an artisan from New Braunfels who did similar work. When Lynn found out, she acted as if it wasn't important. She even bought over fifteen hundred dollars worth of beads that day."

  "Wow. We're talking about a lot of beads."

  "A lot. Then Lynn put a stop payment on her check and brought all the beads back. Dumped together in a zip-top baggie. The gallon size."

  "Oh, dear."

  "Marcie refused to take them, but what did it matter?

  Lynn wasn't going to pay, so in the end, Marcie was stuck separating them all and restocking. It took days."

  I had guessed right; her other car was a broomstick.

  "Do you have any idea why she dislikes me?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "Just on general principles?"

  "Maybe, but I must have done something_" I thought it over and couldn't figure out what it could be. I hadn't insulted her car or her nail polish, or her heads, and that was really all I knew about the woman. No, I also knew that Tony had some association with her . . . and Tony'd had a red rose and some condoms in his trailer.

  "Tony," I said. "Is there anything else you can tell me about her?"

  He looked guilty. "Nothing."

  "Oh, come on. I saw the way you jumped when Angie mentioned Lynn's name. Oh, and that comment about men, or was it sex? Being the root of all evil." When he wouldn't respond I shrugged: "Fine, don't tell me. I'll ask Lynn."

  It wasn't a big threat, or I didn't think so, but Tony cracked faster than an egg hitting a floor. "I'll tell you." He leaned closer. "It's not a big secret—I'm sure half the people in camp already know. She came to my trailer the other night. That's all. She came to my trailer, we talked, and she left. And now it's time for me to leave. I have the Tivolini meeting coming up." He was up in a flash.

  "But, Tony—" He was gone.

  I finished my coffee, trying to think
what it all meant.

  Tony hadn't bought the rose or the condoms for Lynn, that much was for sure. If he'd bought them for May, it was obvious they were never received by her. What I wondered about was whether or not Tony had designs on someone else at camp. He didn't seem attracted to older women.

  Who was younger? I couldn't think of anyone except Jennifer. And Shannan.

  What if Tony was some kind of sexual predator trying to lure young women to his Fifth Wheel? What if—

  I stopped the forward movement of my thoughts, because I was basing conjecture on conjecture on fabrication.

  When any of my illustrious colleagues in the senate had done that, I'd been quick to annoyance and just as quick to point out bow totally untrustworthy their comments were I needed to hold that same measure of fact up to my thoughts. What I knew for a fact was that Tony'd had condoms and a wilting rose in his trailer on Friday. Period.

  I would certainly ask Jennifer and Shannan if he'd invited them over, but in retrospect it didn't seem all that likely.

  Cordy stuck her head in the door. "If any of you are interested in the demonstrations, they are beginning right now in the Saloon." She spotted me and hurried inside.

  "Kitzi! Half the world is looking for you."

  "Who?"

  "Beth before her meeting with Tivolini, but that was a bit ago:'

  "I must have been in the shower:"

  "Good thing." She sat down in the seat Tony'd left and was almost whispering as she leaned toward me. "Jeb is looking for you, too."

  I jerked up, and we almost bumped heads. "What does he want?"

  "I have no idea. Don't you want to see him?"

  "I do not. He may be your brother, but he is, to quote your niece, an asshole. Smart young woman."

  Cordy was looking edgy. "She's right. But now the bad news." Again she leaned closer. "Officer Peterson is also looking for you, and, even worse, he is looking for Shannon, too. He was really steamed about something."

  "Shannan? What—" But I knew in my heart he'd found out that we'd lied to him. I couldn't guess how he knew, and I sure wasn't going to ask him. "I've got to find her," I said. "Any idea where she is? Or Peterson?"