“Can I see him?” Cora asked.
“Not now,” Cashel said. “They don’t allow visitors past a certain time. I imagine he’ll be out this time tomorrow. You can see him in the morning. But don’t you have a class to teach?”
Cora nodded. “I do.”
Jane might be mistaken, but she thought Cashel was amused. She knew he’d do everything he could to help Adrian, but he seemed to be enjoying the moment. She questioned his reason.
Cashel and Cora had had some chemistry between them when they first met—but Cora nipped it in the bud because Ruby worked for her. She didn’t think it was appropriate to date her employee’s son. But maybe Cashel harbored feelings for Cora. Was that the reason he didn’t warm up to Adrian?
“Don’t worry, Cora,” Jane said. “Of course Adrian is innocent. And as you always like to say, if you’re innocent, everything will be fine. And he’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. That’s why I wanted you two to meet. We have nothing to worry about.”
“I beg to differ,” Cashel said. “We have plenty to worry about.”
“What? What do you mean? Not about Adrian?” Cora said.
“No, I wouldn’t worry about him. After all, he’s a big boy,” Cashel said, with a bitter note in his voice. “Nah, what I’d be worried about is a murderer somewhere on this island. A killer who murdered a woman who’d just been married. Which is particularly heinous to me.”
A chill traveled through Jane, even though it was a warm night. She glanced over at her daughter, sleeping peacefully in the chair.
“Also particularly personal,” Cora said.
“Absolutely,” he replied pointedly, lifting an eyebrow.
Chapter 8
Cora woke up the next morning, grouchier than usual. As she drank a cup of coffee in her room, she sorted through her feelings.
Cashel’s face flashed in her mind’s eye. She remembered his attitude from the night before and she must have been on the edge of having too much to drink; otherwise, she’d have told him a thing or two. Why couldn’t he tell them what was going on with Adrian? He was just being a brat.
And why wasn’t Adrian out of jail? Why would they have kept the man without good cause?
“You picked another winner,” Cora said as she checked herself in the mirror. She ran a brush through her unruly red hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. Her cheeks still held the sun-kissed pink from yesterday. No matter how much sunblock she used or how covered up she kept, she always got a little burned.
Adrian clearly had a secret. Maybe many secrets.
She fixed the twisted strap on her “granny” sundress, a stunning find for her at a vintage shop in Pittsburgh. Green and blue paisley swirls, an elastic bodice, and a long, flowing, almost sheer skirt. She loved the gauzy cotton so popular in the 1970s.
She clipped on her long, Indian-inspired earrings.
Was she being a bit unfair to Adrian? After all, she had a few secrets of her own. She hadn’t planned to tell him every little thing about her past any time soon. They hadn’t been dating long and hadn’t even been intimate with one another. They were taking it slow. By the time people were in their thirties, most had a secret or two.
But what secret of his could possibly be keeping him in jail as a murder suspect?
The alarm on her phone pinged, reminding her to meet Ruby and Jane for breakfast. She grabbed her purse and slipped on her sandals and left her room.
Ruby and Jane were waiting near the elevators. Ruby shot her a worried glance.
“Good morning. How are you?”
“I’m okay—how about you?” Cora said.
Ruby looked at Jane. “She hasn’t seen it yet,” Ruby said.
“Cora, listen—” Jane started to say.
“Seen what?”
“There’s an article in the local rag,” Ruby said.
“Article? About what?” Cora said, and reached for the elevator button.
“No,” Jane said, stopping her. “Let’s not go down yet.”
“But we need to go,” Cora said.
“Look!” Jane said, and held up the newspaper.
JILTED EX-LOVER HELD IN GRIMM MURDER CASE, read the headline.
“What?” Cora said. “Who are they talking about?”
“Adrian!” Ruby said in a hushed tone as a couple walked by them.
“Adrian knew the woman who was killed,” Jane said. “It doesn’t prove he killed her, though.”
The air whooshed out of Cora’s body. “Of course not,” she managed to say. She sucked in air. Now was not the time for a panic attack or a pill.
Jane took her elbow. “Why don’t we call room service instead of going to the restaurant?”
“Fabulous idea,” Ruby said. “We don’t need a bunch of people gawking at us.”
With London already safely at the child care center, the three of them walked to Jane’s room and ordered breakfast.
“This was a good idea,” Cora said. “With this news, I need some time to gather my wits.”
“I figured,” Ruby said.
“He’s a grown man. Of course he’s had other girlfriends, right?” Jane said. “I’m sure it’s going to be okay, Cora.”
Cora’s stomach growled. “I hope they bring the food soon.”
“Me too,” Ruby grumbled.
“It’s just that . . .”
“What?”
“We watched some of the wedding. We went for a long walk on the beach and stumbled on the scene. Which was gorgeous, by the way.”
“And?”
“Well, why didn’t he say something then? That he knew the bride?” Cora said. “It’s just weird.”
“Have some coffee,” Ruby said. She had brewed a pot in the room while they waited for room service.
Jane shrugged. “Maybe he felt awkward about it. You know, his new girlfriend happening on the wedding of his old girlfriend.”
“I guess,” Cora said.
“Men don’t think like us,” Ruby said after a moment. “Communication is foreign to them.”
“Room service!” came a voice and a knock at the door.
After Cora ate, she felt better, but still slightly perturbed. She needed to shake it off. She was on today. A class of fifty students had paid for her services.
“What else does the article say?” she asked.
“Not much. You know the police can’t reveal all their secrets,” Jane said, waving her hand.
Cora nodded. “I guess I’ll read the details later. I’d like to check out my classroom and see if everything is ready.”
She stood to go. “I’m hoping Adrian will be let out sometime today.”
“Cashel is on his way to the courthouse,” Ruby said.
“Poor guy, we’re making him work on his vacation,” Jane said.
“Don’t worry about him,” Ruby said. “Trust me, he’s loving every minute of this.”
“But why?” Jane asked.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think he’s a fan of Adrian,” Ruby said.
“I’ve wondered about that. What’s going on?” Jane said.
“I don’t know,” Ruby said.
Cora picked up her bag and checked her cell phone to make sure it was fully charged. Then she picked up her camera bag and said, “I’ve got to go.” She must keep her mind off Adrian and Cashel and whatever or whomever else Jane and Ruby were talking about. This conference was too prestigious to mess up by being unfocused, whatever the distractions.
“Okay,” Jane said. “We’ll see you at lunch.”
Cora left the room and headed down the hall to the elevator. Her goal was to keep her thoughts off the situation, so she went over the schedule in her mind. While she was leading her class, Jane and Ruby would also be teaching theirs. The macramé class was more of a workshop and would be going on all day—as was the crochet class. Cora hoped to sit in on some classes after her morning-long blogging class.
The elevator stopped and she stepped on, smiling at th
e few people in the car.
“Isn’t it awful?” a woman said in a low voice to the man standing next to her. “She had this beautiful wedding and the next day she shows up on the beach dead.”
“There’s more to that story than we know,” the man muttered.
No truer words were ever spoken, Cora mused.
Chapter 9
Cora wondered if it was in her mind or if the students in her morning class had been particularly distracted. It took about an hour for them to settle in, but by lunch time the class was in full swing. The questions kept coming, but Cora was ready for the break—and her crew waited at the back of the room for her.
Many of the questions were about how to increase readership. Did craft challenges help? Contests? Interviews with other crafters? Was it better to focus on one craft or to have a general craft blog?
Some had more technical questions about photography. What was the best digital camera? Did she have tips and tricks for taking good photos? What crafts were easiest to photograph?
“Let’s break now for lunch and come back tomorrow with your questions,” Cora said.
Ruby and Jane, fresh from their own morning classes, whisked her away to a café on the far side of the resort, hoping there’d not be many crafters around to interrupt their conversation.
They sat down in a booth, decided on sandwiches to keep their lunch quick, and gave the server their order.
“Your class didn’t want to let you go,” Jane said.
“How did your class go?” Cora asked Jane.
“It went well,” she said. “I have a much smaller group and they seemed almost advanced.”
“My class went well, too,” Ruby said. “It was a lot of fun.”
“Well, where to this afternoon?” Cora asked.
“I’m not sure. I can’t make up my mind between the macramé and the chime class,” Jane said.
The server brought their sandwiches, placed them on the table. “Will there be anything else?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” Ruby replied.
“I’m going to check on London before I do anything, though,” Jane said.
“I think I’m going to take the chime class,” Cora said. “It makes more sense for the blog. I’m going to attend the evening macramé miniclass.” She wondered if Adrian would be joining her. That had been the plan, before he was carted off to jail. They would do the class, then go to dinner. But now she didn’t know what to expect.
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Ruby said. “The miniclasses are an excellent idea, because you don’t have enough time to experience all of the classes.”
“I think tonight’s class is a basic intro 101 thing,” Jane said. “We’ll see how London is.”
“What do you mean?” Cora said.
“Well, she was unhappy to go back to the day care this morning. Even though they planned to go on a little field trip. She’s decided she doesn’t like the lady who took the crown from her,” Jane said.
Ruby cackled. “I get that!”
Cora couldn’t help but laugh.
“I explained, again, that we couldn’t keep something that doesn’t belong to us,” Jane said, and bit into her crab cake sandwich.
“It’s been a weird few days,” Cora said. “The wedding, Adrian, and poor London finding the tiara belonging to Marcy. Any word from Cashel yet?”
Ruby checked her phone again. “Nothing,” she said.
“I wonder what’s going on,” Cora said. “You’d think they’d at least keep us informed.”
Ruby sighed. “That son of mine is so straight it hurts.”
Jane poked her in the ribs with her elbow. “What did you expect? He is a lawyer.”
She waved Jane off and went about eating her sandwich.
“The tiara was astonishing,” Cora said. “When I saw it on the bride’s head the night of her wedding, I was in awe. But seeing it up close like that. Wow.”
“Yes, Mathilde is quite gifted,” Jane said.
“The wedding was stunning. Right on the beach. She was so beautiful and her dress, I don’t know, reminded me of a mermaid. You know, it had that cut.”
“Well, you know she was a mermaid scholar,” Ruby said.
“That’s what I heard,” Cora said.
Jane leaned forward. “Yeah, she was a well-known mermaid folklorist.”
“How interesting,” Cora said. “I never realized there was such a thing as a mermaid folklorist until this weekend.”
“She grew up on this island,” Jane said. “Wouldn’t this be a magical place to grow up?”
“I don’t know,” Ruby said. “Marcy moved away to study, of course, but according to the paper, she never really moved back here. I think it might be a little small for some folks. She was ambitious. Obviously.”
“Yet, she came back here to marry,” Cora said.
Jane rolled her eyes. “Her family owns about half the island.”
“What?” Cora said. They were talking about the murder victim, but they were also talking about her boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend. Her family owned about half the island? She was a mermaid folklorist? And drop-dead gorgeous. Pangs of insecurity poked at her. No wonder Adrian had not made any serious moves toward her. Next to Marcy Grimm, she was about as interesting as a piece of dry toast.
“You know they’re not letting anybody leave the island without a good cause,” Ruby said.
“What? Why?”
“Because of the murder. They’re questioning everybody who leaves.”
“Well, I suppose it makes sense, but the killer might have fled before the police even realized Marcy was dead,” Jane said.
“They don’t think so. Evidently, they keep a pretty close watch on the waters,” Ruby said.
The island had no bridge. A ferry escorted people on and off.
“That’s lovely,” Cora said wearily. “No wonder Mathilde was so worried about the retreat. It’s possible a killer is still on the island.” Her stomach soured.
“Yes, but the killer isn’t Adrian. You know that, right?” Jane said.
“I’m sure he didn’t kill Marcy Grimm, but I’m learning there’s more to him than what I knew,” Cora said.
“There always is, honey,” Ruby said.
“So, the question is, if he didn’t kill her, who did?” Jane said.
“Hopefully, Adrian will be released soon, and we can move forward and leave the police to consider such questions,” Cora said, twisting her napkin in her sweaty palm. Why hadn’t they let Adrian go?
Chapter 10
Cora and Jane found their way to Mathilde’s class. She looked every inch the put-together crafty diva. She wore silk slacks and a bright blue and yellow tunic, with large chunky beads and sea glass jewelry draped over her neck and hanging from her ears.
The effect was a bit much for Cora. She glanced over at Jane, who rolled her eyes. Yep, it was a bit much for her, as well.
Cora pulled out her cell phone and texted Adrian yet again as the class commenced. He hadn’t responded to any of her texts, so far, but she tried once more. I’m worried about you. Text me when you are back at the hotel. SEND.
“Welcome to my sea chime class,” Mathilde said.
A sample of sea chimes encircled the room. Simple shells hanging on wires. Shells entwined with macramé wire and sea glass. One chime appeared to be more of a wall hanging with a huge twine square with little squares of macramé inside. In each square was a colorful little seashell. Cora liked the simplicity of the design, but she wondered if it would be easy to make.
“This is one of my most fun classes,” Mathilde said. “Because once you’ve got the basics down, you can do so much with a little twine or strings and a bunch of seashells. Then you can experiment with adding beads, sea glass, pieces of driftwood, and so on.”
Cora struggled to pay attention. Something about Mathilde’s delivery made her want to sleep. Or was it the big sandwich she just ate? Or the fact that she’d tossed and turned all night long, wor
rying about Adrian? She yawned. She might not make it through this class.
Jane caught her yawn and poked her. They were expected to attend other classes. They were being paid well for this gig and they were “on” all weekend. A relaxing retreat for everybody—but the teachers. Cora drooped and sighed.
“Coffee?” Jane whispered, and pointed to the carafe in the opposite corner of the room. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks,” Cora said.
“I like using this stretchy see-through cord, rather than the ropey twine,” Mathilde said. “It gives the piece an airy feel and helps it to move a little more.”
Cora propped her elbows on the table she and Jane were sharing. Gosh, she hadn’t realized how exhausted she was. A nap might be just what she needed.
Jane sat the cup of coffee on the table and the scent perked her up. She sipped from the steamy brew and blinked. Lord, why was Mathilde’s delivery so monotonous? How were her classes so popular? Cora wanted to scream. It was bloody awful.
“In the center of your tables, you have a selection of seashells, sea glass, and other pretties,” Mathilde said.
Cora fiddled with their seashells.
“You’ve also got a little drill on your table, which you can use to make the holes. I suggest playing with your chime arrangements, laying it out on the table, before you drill,” she said.
Jane’s long fingers placed shells and sea glass on the table, switching one for the other, and yet again.
“Now, remember not to make your holes too big, or else your knot might slip through and you don’t want huge knots,” Mathilde said.
Cora ran her fingers over the smooth, oblong shells. She loved the colors—caramel and cocoa—and the spotted patterns of this particular shell.
“If you have any questions, Hank and I will be moving about the room. Grab one of us.”
Hank, Mathilde’s assistant, waved his hand with a flourish. He was always by her side and Cora wondered if they were involved. Neither wore a ring, so she assumed they weren’t married, but they did seem quite close.
Cora lined her shells up. She was drawn to the beads and sea glass. Jane, however, selected several of the same kind of shells. Flat, half circle, all muted colors. Simple and elegant, like Jane herself.
Macramé Murder Page 4