A Bead in the Hand (Glass Bead Mystery Series Book 2)

by Janice Peacock

  They all were talking at the same time, their glass bead necklaces, earrings, and bracelets glinting in the warm glow of the brilliant chandeliers dangling like jewels above our heads.

  I was happy to see Tessa sitting at the farthest end of the table. She must have been able to negotiate détente with her daughters. If she were a cartoon character, she’d have a big black cloud hovering over her head. I threw caution to the wind and headed her way. She was trapped and would have to talk with me if I slipped in next to her. She was at the foot of the table, so at least we could sit next to each other and spill into the aisle without being too uncomfortable.

  I flagged down a waitress. “I’ll have a Cosmo, and my friend here, I’d like to buy her a—Tessa, what are you drinking, sweetie?” I asked, trying to buy back her friendship with alcohol and cuteness. She spoke exactly one word.

  “Jack.”

  “Yes, my dearest friend would like Jack Daniel’s,” I said, looking from Tessa and back to the waitress. Tessa shook her glass to make the ice cubes jingle. “On the rocks. Make it a double. My treat. Oh, and a menu, please.”

  The menu at the Cheesecake Factory is a short novel: twenty pages of salads, entrees, light snacks, heavy snacks, with extra pages just for desserts. I didn’t look at the calorie disclosures because I knew I’d be appalled.

  I scanned the table to see who else was here: Vance Dalton and his wife Lin, Miles, Minnie, The Twins, Luke the Aussie, Indigo—who must have made money today or else she wouldn’t have been able to afford dinner out—and Wendy, whose scooter was parked by the front door. Miles and Minnie were a few chairs down from us, making goo-goo eyes at each other. Ah, hipsters in love, it was enough to make me lose my appetite. I was going to have to ignore them to make it through the meal.

  Tessa hadn’t warmed up to me yet. The waitress arrived with her new drink. Hopefully, my friend’s mood would improve soon. I smiled at her as she took a sip of her drink, trying to say non-verbally, “Who’s your best friend?” She gave me a small smile, but that was all. The waitress took my order, chicken piccata, and dashed off. I hoped my food would arrive as quickly as Tessa’s drink had. I was starving.

  “How was the first day of the bazaar for you?” I asked Vance, who was across from me.

  “Disappointing. It felt like people were looking for Vandal, and all they got was me—not the most exciting guy.”

  “Your work is fascinating, though. People should be judging you by what you make.” As we sat there, Vance adjusted the duct tape on the temple of his glasses. There were some things he could do to improve his appearance. If Val were here, she’d insist he needed an entire make-over, starting with a new pair of glasses. Whether that simple fix would improve his sales remained to be seen.

  “I’m going to go back to selling on the Internet. There aren’t as many people to interact with in person that way,” Vance said.

  I noticed Vance’s wife, Lin, hadn’t said a word, but seemed entranced by The Twins, who were wearing their usual black on black dresses. Sara and Lara were unhappy, more unhappy than usual.

  “What’s up, you two?” I asked.

  “We hate this bazaar,” one of them said. “There are never enough customers who are into our work, you know?” said the other one. “No one is deep enough to understand what we do,” said the first one. “I’m so glad we aren’t sell-outs like Saundra was.” They both nodded in agreement, looking at each other, and then back at me.

  “What about not speaking ill of the dead?” I asked, trying to redeem myself with Tessa.

  “We have no problem with death, especially when it’s someone we hate,” said Lara, or possibly Sara.

  “But you two hate everyone,” I replied.

  “So?” they said in unison. “We hated her for more reasons than—” said Sara, possibly Lara. “Shut up,” whispered the other one, as quietly as possible. This was the first time I’d ever seen any tension between these two. It made me wonder, though: Did one—or both—of them hate Saundra enough to kill her? And if not The Twins, could there be someone else who disliked Saundra enough to want her dead?

  “Did you two see anything strange last night during the blackout, or after?” I asked.

  “No,” said one of the women. “It was dark, and after that, they wouldn’t let us back into the ballroom.”

  “We love the dark. It’s what we live for—and death, of course.”

  “Yeah, that one hipster chick down there, she was freaking out during the blackout,” said the other.

  “We hate her,” said the first one.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

  “She totally co-opted our skulls,” they said, showing more emotion than I’d ever seen from them, each clutching the stem of her glass so tightly that their knuckles were turning white.

  “What did she do to your skulls?” I asked, trying to figure out if co-opted our skulls was code for brainwashing.

  “You know we make these skull beads, and they have been our trademark for a really, really, really long time,” said one, as the other bobbed her head in agreement. “That hipster chick, she totally started making them, too.”

  “It’s so derivative. I mean, we were making skulls for a couple of years, and she comes along and makes skulls, too.”

  “Maybe they look different than yours.”

  “They do,” said one, “and they are hideous—”

  “They are all these cute colors—“

  “Not the colors that true skulls are,” said the first.

  “There you have it—she uses different colors. They’re not like yours at all, are they?” I said, trying to convince them that it’s common for artists to make similar designs, but that doesn’t mean a design has been stolen.

  The Twins said nothing, but sat there staring at me. As if on cue, they both took a sip of a vile bright yellowish green concoction. They were drinking absinthe again. Drinking a Cosmo suddenly seemed much more interesting than talking with these two dimwitted Goth chicks.

  I was feeling a little woozy, but it couldn’t have been the Cosmo, since I’d only had a sip of it. The day’s events must have been catching up with me. I looked around the table. Could anyone here hate Saundra enough to want to kill her? It was temping to grill each one of them, to ask where they were when the lights went out. Did anyone have a reason to kill Saundra? Could I have their fingerprints? And a little DNA? I admit those last couple of questions wouldn’t get me far. I also knew I’d promised Detective Houston that I wouldn’t discuss what had happened—whatever that was—with anyone.

  And that made me wonder: Why had a detective come to see me? Was that the normal procedure when someone finds a body? When I’d found a dead body a few months back, it was clear that the woman had been murdered. But this time, I couldn’t be certain if it was murder. It may simply have been an accident.

  I noticed Miles staring off into space at the other end of the table. Was he upset that Saundra was dead? He seemed like a nice guy, maybe a little too nice, given how badly Saundra had treated him. He was generous enough to have lent me some supplies when I needed them today. Although those supplies were actually Minnie’s.

  I called down the table to Minnie, “I think I have some extra papers of yours, if you’re looking for them.”

  Minnie looked up from her drink, a fancy cocktail with sprigs of herbs sticking out of it. It was the same thing that Miles was drinking. She seemed surprised, her round brown eyes getting rounder in response to my comment. Minnie nodded. The restaurant was loud, and it was hard to tell if she heard me. In fact, the restaurant was getting louder and louder, though I wondered if that was really true, or if I was just becoming overly sensitive to everything after the trauma of the morning.

  “I saw you had a lot of duplicate receipt books and other supplies, so I lent some to Jax, since the cops took all of hers,” Miles told Minnie.

  “You’re going to come back and help me with my booth again tomorrow?” I asked Miles.

/>   Miles’s shoulders dropped, disappointed that I wanted him back.

  “Yes,” he said, sighing. “I’ll be there tomorrow to help.” One of his hands was under the table and so was one of Minnie’s. No doubt they were holding hands.

  My chicken dinner arrived, and it was large enough to feed a small village. I was sick inside, and not because of the crowded table and the din of the restaurant. I was overwhelmed. I’d never experienced a day like today. While I had seen a dead body before, I had never held one in my arms and looked into blank eyes, never tried to resuscitate someone—and failed. I tried to concentrate on my breathing, but as I did I started to shake, my chest hitching each time I inhaled. I grabbed two twenties out of my handbag, threw them on the table, and bolted for the door. I needed to breathe, to walk, and to cry.

  ELEVEN

  I WALKED AS QUICKLY as I could, dodging waiters and customers as I left the restaurant. I passed the dessert display case without so much as a glance. Any other time, I would have stopped, or at least slowed down, to admire the decadent cheesecakes: salted caramel, chocolate mousse, white chocolate raspberry, and a dozen more.

  I flew out the door and headed away from our hotel, or maybe I was headed toward our hotel. I was never very good with directions. A familiar voice called out me—it was Tessa.

  “Hey! Jax! Wait up.”

  I kept walking. Moving through the cool evening air helped me clear my head. After three blocks, I stopped at a corner, doubled over in pain, sweaty and out of breath. Tessa caught up to me. I felt her familiar touch as she put her hand on my back.

  “Time to slow down, my friend. You’re not running a race,” she said, gently rubbing my back.

  We started walking again and after a few blocks in silence, I finally said, “All I can think about is Saundra. I can’t erase the memory of her. The blood on her head, her eyes, still open—how cold she felt in my arms.”

  “She must’ve been dead for hours,” Tessa said. “I’m sure the coroner will figure all that out.”

  “I just wonder…Why is she in the morgue?”

  “Because that’s where dead people belong. I don’t think Miles would have the wherewithal to prop her up in her booth, Weekend with Bernie-style.”

  “That’s not what I mean. What if someone wanted her dead?” I asked.

  “Who would want her dead—” Tessa started to ask, but we already knew the answer.

  “Don’t get mad, I’m not speaking ill of the dead. I’m just talking facts. I can’t think of a single person who liked her.”

  “But that doesn’t mean someone would want to kill her. Jax, I know you’ve had some success with finding murderers. You figured out who killed Misty at the bead shop, and that was amazing,” Tessa said. “You’re upset, but don’t let what happened this morning, or what happened months ago, lead you to obsess about someone’s dark motives.”

  “I know. The world doesn’t work that way. People die, but it doesn’t mean it’s murder,” I said, but still, I wondered what had really happened. “A detective came by after you left. She wanted to talk with me about Saundra.”

  “I think that’s normal. It doesn’t mean someone killed her. It’s just standard operating procedure.”

  I pulled Tiffany’s card out of my pocket. I hadn’t looked at it when she gave it to me.

  Tiffany Houston

  Portland Police Bureau

  Homicide Detective

  TWELVE

  “HOMICIDE?” TESSA SAID, stopping dead in her tracks.

  “I think homicide detectives usually investigate murders, not the theft of beads and jewelry.”

  “Or accidents—if there had been something suspicious that needs to be investigated. It could still be an accident, the police just need to verify that.”

  We finished our walk to the hotel in silence. After I’d bolted from the restaurant, I had no idea where I was. Tessa guided us effortlessly back to The Red Rose Hotel. She was clearly a better navigator than me.

  I didn’t feel like passing out, and I felt steadier on my feet. And I was glad Tessa was talking to me again.

  • • •

  Back inside the hotel, we headed toward the elevators. The door to the ballroom was open.

  “Tessa—let’s take a peek inside,” I said.

  “Let’s just leave things alone. It’s none of our business.”

  “It feels like my business. Especially since that detective wants to interrogate me tomorrow morning,” I said. “It would be nice to have as much information as possible before I talk with her.”

  “Why? You don’t need to know anything. Just talk with the detective and tell her what happened. You don’t have to go looking for extra details.”

  “Please, Tessa. Look, you didn’t clamp your lips on a dead woman’s mouth this morning. You didn’t find one of her glass beads in your hand and faint. You didn’t—”

  “You just want to talk with that hot security guard. I’m going up to the room.”

  “Okay, okay. I promise I won’t be long. He’s a security guard. At least I know I’ll be safe.”

  “Be careful, Jax. You shouldn’t get mixed up in this mess and put yourself in danger. Remember last time, you nearly got yourself blown up—”

  “I’ll be careful, I promise,” I said, turning her around and giving her a gentle nudge toward the elevator.

  Slowly craning my neck, I peeked around the edge of the ballroom door. Ryan turned the corner at the entrance to the ballroom and crashed into me. I fell backward, landing on my butt, with Ryan standing over me. He offered me his hand, and I pulled myself up as gracefully as possible, finding myself just a little too close to him once I was standing. Oh my, his eyes were beautiful—dark brown with little flecks of amber. I decided those colors were my new favorites and couldn’t wait to get back to the studio where I could experiment melting glass in those delicious chocolate and caramel hues.

  “Hi, Ryan, what a surprise running into you,” I said, dusting myself off and stepping back to a more comfortable distance. “What are you doing here?” What a silly question, he was doing his job.

  “CSI finished up their evidence collection, and they’ve asked me to secure the perimeter.”

  “Can you tell me anything—do they have any information about what happened?”

  “That’s on a need-to-know basis,” he said.

  “Come on, Ryan. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Look, I shouldn’t be telling you anything—but then again, there isn’t much to tell. These CSI guys, they’ve dusted for prints and taken all sorts of things away with them. They say it’s going to take weeks to get the results of the fingerprint tests. This isn’t like television, where the detectives get the test results in twenty minutes.”

  “I knew that. Pshhh. It’s not like I believe all the things that happen on those crime shows. Are they just going to pack things up, go back to the office, and hope they get some results someday?”

  “I’m afraid so. I’m hoping I can do my part with the homicide investigation. That might help me get a good job after I graduate from the police academy.”

  “Aha! So it was murder!” I said, a little too loudly.

  “Shh. You’re not supposed to know that. As far as you or anyone else at the bead bazaar is concerned, Saundra’s death was just an accident. The woman fell, cracked her head open, and bled to death.”

  “Maybe I could help you figure out what happened,” I suggested. “This needs to be settled fast, before everyone leaves the bazaar on Sunday and heads home. Once everyone’s gone, it’ll be harder to figure out what happened.”

  “I’m working with the police on the case. You don’t need to worry about it, especially after all you’ve been through,” Ryan said, as he offered me a chair and sat down next to me. He leaned toward me. “Are you feeling okay? That must have been quite a shock.”

  “I’m okay, feeling better. Thanks for helping me this morning.”

  “Oh, all part of the services I
offer,” he said with a warm smile.

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, well. I—”

  “You must be upset that Ms. Jameson died,” he said.

  “Saundra was pretty condescending and rude. It sounds terrible, but she was obnoxious.” Then, remembering that Tessa had warned me about speaking ill of the dead, I added, “But she must have some family members who care about her.”

  “You do realize, Jax, that you’re the number-one suspect?”

  “What? Me? Because my table was next to hers? Because I’m the one who found her? I’m not a killer,” I said, shocked he would think that of me.

  “That’s what all murderers say,” Ryan joked.

  At least I hoped he was joking. Some of the people I’d seen at dinner strolled by on their way to their rooms.

  “Do you have an alibi for last night?” he asked.

  “Yes. I was in bed. Tessa was with me. I mean, we were in the same room, each in a bed, together, in the same room.”

  “That’s good,” he said, leaning closer. “I wouldn’t want to have to turn you over to the police.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Who do you think would have a reason to kill Ms. Jameson?”

  “No one. Or, everyone, depending on what you consider a valid reason to want someone dead,” I replied. “She wasn’t the nicest person, but so awful that someone would kill her? I don’t know.”

  “That narrows it down considerably,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I’ll keep my eyes open and tell you if I hear anything suspicious. That is, if I see, or hear, anything…” I wasn’t making much sense. Definitely time for bed.

  “I need to get back to securing the facility. Good night, Jax. I hope I see you again…soon.” If Ryan had had a hat on, he would have tipped it.

  “Good night,” I said.

  Oh, I love a man in a uniform.

  The elevator felt chilly again tonight, but that was a relief, since I felt warm around the edges from talking with Ryan.