Macramé Murder

by Mollie Cox Bryan

  Cora had nothing against mermaids, but she’d had her fill of them this weekend. Between Mermaid Hall, the The Mermaid of Sea Glass Island, and her boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, the mermaid scholar, if she’d had any appetite for mermaids, it had been satiated—and then some.

  Chapter 24

  Cora received a text from Detective Brodsky as she was finishing up her starfish mosaic: Your psychic checks out. I can’t find anything on her.

  She’s really psychic? Cora typed back. Cora believed such things existed, but that they were few and far between.

  I don’t know about that. But she has no record, he texted back.

  Interesting, she responded. She wondered how difficult it would be to pay her a visit. The she remembered she was not supposed to leave the resort, was she? She was teetering on running out of the place—she was feeling hemmed in. She’d probably be fine sitting here, if Mathilde hadn’t asked them to stay. Cora understood. But it didn’t make fighting her impulse any easier. She wanted out.

  “A mermaid?” Cora said to Jane, glancing at her mosaic.

  “What’s wrong with mermaids?”

  “It’s a little mermaid-intensive for me.”

  “I’m a big fan. Ariel is my favorite Disney princess.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Cora said, smoothing over some grout. “Belle is my favorite princess. She’s way smarter than Ariel.”

  “Not true,” Jane said, with a gleam in her eyes.

  “Them’s fightin’ words, girl,” Cora said.

  “Really?” a woman behind them said. “You two talking crap about Disney princesses?”

  Cora’s face heated.

  “Everybody knows Cinderella is the best,” the woman said, and the group laughed.

  “Who are you texting?” Jane said, after it calmed down.

  “Brodsky. Our psychic checks out,” Cora replied.

  “Psychic?” Jane said a little too loudly.

  “Remember, Josh’s mother is the island psychic and she’s helped with other murder cases.”

  “That’s bizarre. Other murder cases on this island?”

  “No. On neighboring islands.”

  “It’s a little too coincidental for me,” Jane said, completing her mermaid mosaic and holding the finished tray up.

  “Lovely,” Cora said. “Your own Ariel.”

  Jane grinned. “You know it, baby.”

  “What do you mean about coincidence?” Cora asked her as they gathered their things to leave the classroom.

  “Well, first, that it’s Josh’s mother. Second, murder? On a neighboring island? That’s two murders in unlikely places.”

  “Actually, I think there may have been more, but that’s something I’m going to check into,” Cora said. “But I’d like to talk to Cashel and see what he’s researching. I don’t need to reinvent the wheel.”

  “Oh, he’s researching something about property,” Jane said. “I ran into him this morning when I was dropping London off at day care. He mentioned something about a property dispute.”

  Cora realized that had been mentioned several times. She made a mental note to check further into it. She realized some people considered their land important and would do a great deal to save it—but to kill? And who exactly was involved in the land dispute?

  “I don’t know about you, but I feel like a quick walk along the shore before I take London to meet Lulu,” Jane said, with an impish grin. “She’s packed and ready to go.”

  “But—”

  “Yeah, I’m aware, but we can still walk on the resort’s beach, right?” She raised an eyebrow. “I can’t have someone telling me where I can and can’t go.”

  Cora thought of the wind chimes hanging in Josh’s mother’s doorway. “I’d like to talk to a psychic.”

  “Oh no, you are not going that far alone,” Jane said. “That’s on the other side of the island in the damn swamp area. Besides, what are you going to say to her? Her daughter-in-law was killed. I don’t think you should go anywhere by yourself. You better leave that alone, Cora.”

  Perhaps Jane was right. Maybe she should leave that alone. But in the meantime, she wanted to go back to her room to do a little surfing on the net to see what she could find out about the property dispute on the island.

  “Okay,” Cora said. “I won’t go. I’m going to my room to write a blog post and rest, if I can.”

  “Who are you kidding?” Jane said. ‘You’re going to do some research.”

  Cora bit her lip.

  “Well, have fun,” Jane said. “I should get London, anyway. Then I’m going to take that macramé miniclass.”

  “Okay,” Cora said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “I want a full report,” Jane said, as Cora walked away.

  “Sure thing,” Cora said, and found the elevator.

  When she exited the elevator, she heard raised voices. It took her a moment to figure out where they were coming from—around the corner. She planted herself.

  “Are you happy now?” a female voice said. “I’ll never get my hands on the gorgeous tiara now. Her family has it.”

  “The police gave it to them. There was nothing I could do. You need to get over it, Mathilde,” the voice said.

  Oh, it’s Hank, Mathilde’s assistant.

  What were they doing here, on the third floor, standing in the hallway arguing? And so quickly? Mathilde must have slipped out before anybody else. Odd.

  “That tiara is priceless,” Mathilde said with a hiss. “You screwed this up.”

  “You don’t understand. What I did was best. Someday you’ll understand,” he said.

  “Don’t speak to me as if I’m a child,” she said, her voice shrill.

  The voices grew closer. Cora took off down the hall in the other direction. She remembered a similar conversation between those two on the eve of Marcy Grimm’s murder, and her chest reacted with a crushing sensation. She needed to retreat to her room—and fast.

  Chapter 25

  Cora was a kickass researcher—if she did say so herself. Her fingers took control of the keyboard and her screen lit up. She focused on the task in front of her so that the panic sensation would diminish. What was going on with Mathilde and her assistant and the tiara? The second conversation she overheard heightened her curiosity. Extremely unpleasant. But, as the images popped up on the screen of the newly planned Sea Glass Resort, she feasted her eyes on the travesty of it. The resort she was sitting in took up a big chunk of the island. This proposed resort would take up about half of the remainder.

  It was on the other side of the island—near the swamp and marsh area. Hmmm. She remembered reading something about Disney filling in swamp in order to build in Florida. And that looked like what was happening here. Images of the row houses and the somewhat dilapidated homes played in her mind. What would become of those folks?

  Were the developers offering to buy?

  She clicked on the image of the article. She scanned it and recognized several of the names: Rue, Josh, and the Grimm family were mentioned several times. Interesting. And no wonder Cashel was researching this situation. It seemed the perfect motive for murder. Well, no perfect reason existed in reality—but given what she knew about people, money was always at the top of the list for reasons for murder—that or love, or drugs. Her little town of Indigo Gap had even been infiltrated by the drug problem.

  Her heart fluttered as she thought about Indigo Gap. Wow, she hadn’t expected to miss it so much. She’d always thought of Pittsburgh as home. It was where she grew up, where she went to school, and where she had built her life as a social worker. But, ultimately, it was the place she was compelled to leave. She understood the city too well, knew the secrets of its residents, and it became like a weight on her chest. She thought she had her anxiety under control, and for the most part she did. But she didn’t like confrontation—even other people’s confrontations.

  She sighed.

  According to the article she was reading, the Grimm f
amily was trying to stop the new resort. They had more money and influence than anybody on Sea Glass Island, apparently. But other residents wanted the resort. It would mean jobs to those who couldn’t land jobs at the already built resort. Unemployment was high on the island. Several people commuted to other islands for work, or to Charleston.

  The Grimms were allied with the preservationists and the conservationists, trying desperately to save what was left of the landscape, the plants, animals, and the swamp. Interesting family.

  Most wealthy sorts would be on the other side, the side of the developers. Of course the developers were backed by even more money. Adair Development was a huge corporation. Cora hoped they’d lose. Sea Glass Island was so charming—she hated to see it developed even further.

  But how did this have anything to do with the killing of Marcy Grimm?

  Would a developer send someone to kill a woman who belonged to an opposing wealthy family? Cora doubted it. That was the stuff of fiction—wasn’t it?

  And why Marcy and not her parents? Or her new husband, for that matter? Everything she owned was now his.

  Once again, the fleeting thought came to her that love was often the reason for murder. A twisted kind of love. But this story offered everything: love, murder, and money. Which thread to follow?

  Her phone buzzed. It was Jane. Was her macramé class over already?

  “Yes,” Cora said, picking up the phone.

  “Something terrible has happened. Thank God I just got London safely off this island.”

  “What?” Cora felt a bolt of panic travel along her spine.

  “It’s Zooey . . .” Jane’s voice quivered.

  “What’s going on?”

  “She never showed up for class and . . .”

  “And what?”

  “They found her body. She’s dead,” Jane said.

  “What?”

  “Now, calm down,” Jane said. “Take some deep breaths, my friend. You’ve not heard the worst part.”

  “Worse? Worse?” What could be worse?

  “She, her body, was, um, cinched in a huge macramé bag,” Jane said.

  Cora didn’t think she heard right. “Come again.”

  “She was found in a macramé bag,” Jane said.

  Cora sat, stunned.

  “So Mathilde is having a meeting in another part of the resort and wants all the teachers to attend. Can you meet me at the Golden Seashell?”

  “Yes,” Cora said. “I’ll be there.”

  She shut off her laptop and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was normally pale—but now she was as white as a sheet. Gosh, she needed to put on a happy face for the retreaters—how was she going to do that? Poor Zooey. How gruesome. How perfectly awful.

  She smoothed her vintage baby doll dress and reached for her crochet bag. Lipstick should help. Her heart thudded. How could such a terrible thing happen? Two murders on such a tiny, beautiful island. She drew in air and headed out the door. Memories of what she had heard when she entered the hallway tugged at her, along with all the stuff she’d read about the resort. Surely, Zooey had nothing to do with any of that. Could Zooey and Marcy have anything in common?

  Cora pressed the elevator button. At least her boyfriend had an alibi; he was still in his room fast asleep. Well, the last she’d checked on him, he was safely tucked in.

  Where are you? she texted him.

  In my room, he replied. Just got out of the shower.

  She stepped on the elevator and took advantage of being alone. She called him and filled him in on the story.

  “And you’re going down there? I don’t like it,” he said.

  “It’s in another part of the building. Why don’t you join us?”

  He was silent. “Okay. I’ve not heard from Cashel. I suppose he’ll call when he has something to tell me.”

  One would hope.

  “See you in a few?”

  “I’ll be right down,” he said. “And, Cora?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please be careful,” he said.

  “I will.”

  Chapter 26

  Jane stood in the room with the other craft retreaters, trying to calm her nerves. She wasn’t the sort to have anxiety problems, like Cora. But the situation scared her. Someone had killed Zooey. Today. Could be someone in this room. Who knew? People were getting offed left and right. Women. First Marcy Grimm, now Zooey, the macramé artist. Tom, Zooey’s assistant, was rushed off in an ambulance. For a few moments, Jane herself thought she’d have to ask for medication, as well. How bloody awful.

  She was surrounded by strangers. Okay. Some of them were her students. But still, they were strangers. Poor Katy and her crew—they had walked in on the body. Linda was okay. She was a nurse. But the rest of them? In shock, every one of them. They were whisked off to a quiet room.

  Finally, in a sea of strange faces came one she recognized, one she yearned for at times like these: Cora. Cora, even with all her own issues, was the person to have near you in crisis. She knew what to say. She knew what to do.

  “Hey,” Cora said, and reached for her, giving her a warm hug. “Are you okay?”

  “A little shaken,” Jane said. “I didn’t see . . . Zooey. But a group of women did. She was in the room when they walked in.”

  “Why don’t we sit down,” Cora said, and led her to a group of chairs.

  Jane sat down and watched Cora walk to the bar, where they were handing out glasses of wine like it was candy. The room was hushed.

  “I’m not sure this is the best idea. Maybe Mathilde should have sent them off to their rooms,” Cora said.

  “She was probably in shock herself,” Jane said. “Can you imagine?”

  Cora probably could. But Jane understood Cora didn’t want to think about what would happen if one of her retreat teachers or guests was killed. Other things cropped up, though. Identity theft. A male teacher who couldn’t keep it in his pants. And Cora’s own best friend accused of murdering the town librarian—that would be her. That was enough. They both wanted smooth sailing from here on out.

  Cora sat down in the chair next to Jane. “I was reading about the Adair Development thing online and examined some of the drawings and proposed resort.”

  “Isn’t that kind of what Cashel is doing?” Jane asked, and took another drink from her wine. A warming sensation traveled through her body.

  “Who knows what the man is doing? I’ve not heard from him. I wanted to read up on the situation. The Grimm family has been trying to put a stop to the proposed resort,” Cora said.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Jane said. “That took you . . . what fifteen minutes? . . . to find out, and Cashel’s been gone all day?”

  “Forget about Cashel,” Cora said. “He’s not even going to tell us anything he finds out.”

  Forget about Cashel. She should. He annoyed Jane more and more. She was certain he liked Cora. At one point, she thought Cora liked him. But Cora was crazy about Adrian.

  “So what did Zooey have to do with anything?” Jane said in a hushed tone. “I mean, she’s not from here, is she? Why would she care about this island like that?”

  “I may be barking up the wrong tree, but people get crazy when it comes to big money, property, and saving their land, and so on. I’m betting these murders are linked and that it has something to do with all the proposed development,” Cora said.

  “But Zooey had nothing to do with any of that,” Jane said.

  “Not that we know. But what do we know about her?” Cora said, and sipped from her wineglass. “Even her last name is secret.”

  “Well, that’s easy enough to find out. There will be obituaries, articles in the paper, that kind of thing. We’ll know all about her soon enough. She was quite popular,” Jane said. “A very successful macramé artist.”

  Her words hung in the air.

  Poor woman.

  Cora nodded. “She was gifted. But I tell you, something was off about her.”


  “What do you mean?”

  “First of all, I don’t like the one-name thing. What’s that about? Second, I didn’t like the way she shook my hand. Or didn’t shake it. I mean, her hand was limp. It was off-putting,” Cora said.

  “I noticed that, too,” Jane said.

  Adrian was making his way toward them. He wore a green shirt that matched his eyes. Cora lit up as she waved to him.

  “He’s into you,” Jane said.

  “Of course,” Cora replied.

  “But how into him are you?”

  “What do you mean?” Cora said, her face falling.

  “I mean you don’t trust the guy. It’s obvious,” Jane said. She drained her wineglass.

  “That’s not quite true,” Cora said, but her face was getting pink.

  “Yes, it is,” Jane said.

  Cora appeared to be mulling over what Jane said. “Well,” she said, “I don’t trust people easily. You understand. Especially men. I’m just getting to know him.”

  “He’s not given you any reason not to trust him, Cora,” Jane said.

  “His half-truths bother me,” Cora said.

  “Get over it,” Jane said. “Not everybody opens up as easily as you do. Besides, he’s a guy. He’s more quiet and reticent than most. But I thought you liked that.”

  “I do, but this weekend has been strange. He’s been acting oddly, you know? But I think we’re on the right track,” Cora said.

  “I think it would help if you slept with him,” Jane said, with a wink.

  Cora’s face turned bright red and she laughed. “As if that would solve everything.”

  “What’s going on?” Adrian asked as he reached them.

  “Girl talk,” Jane said.

  Adrian grinned and nodded, then looked off in the direction of the podium, where Mathilde stood in front of a microphone.

  “I want to apologize,” Mathilde said. She divulged all the information she’d learned about the murder. “There’s no point in pussyfooting around. Security on the island is on red alert. Nobody is leaving and nobody is allowed to enter the island. For the time being, I’d appreciate it if you’d all stay close by. All indications are the person who killed Zooey was after her—and her alone. Your lives are probably not in any danger. But the police want you to stay as alert as possible—and as safe.”