She wanted to believe it would. The investigation had been such a mess. It had been three days since his death. How much of the evidence even remained?
Understandably, they had figured Zee killed him. She was found clutching the murder weapon. They were compelled to question her—but they didn’t have to keep her as long as they did. Cora didn’t know Zee’s ex-husband or the judge, but she pictured the judge as some guy whose notion of himself was a godlike creature wielding his small-town legal power at will. She made a mental note to talk with Zee about him later.
Something bothered Cora about the whole Roni story, which was how she allowed someone else to take the fall for the murder. Why didn’t she step forward then? If she believed she killed him, she should have confessed then. Maybe the case would be solved by now. Cora hated to think badly of anybody, but she supposed that Roni would have been perfectly happy if Zee had gone to prison for the murder. Would she have confessed if Cora hadn’t found the bloody scarf?
At this point, Cora supposed it didn’t matter. They were now on to another suspect. Jo. Quiet, sweet, caring Jo, who claimed she couldn’t stand to be away from her kids and needed to get back home.
Well, she was glad to leave the tracking of Jo to Brodsky and his colleagues. She felt betrayed and manipulated. She tried to focus on Lena.
“An overhand knot is used a lot in beadwork and it’s simple to tie. In bead stringing, it’s for decorative effect or to keep them secure. It’s also used in stringing at the end of a cord or attaching it to a clamshell beading tip. The overhand knot is similar to the half hitch knot, with the primary difference being that a half hitch knot gets tied around something else, such as another cord. Overhand knots can also be used on the cord that is doubled to create a loop that can be used to make a clasp, such as when working with leather cord,” she said, and then demonstrated.
Cora took a drink of her water. Here she was in a knotting class, unable to concentrate enough for any of it to make sense, sort of like she was a big twisted knot herself.
Chapter 50
After the class Annie approached Cora. “Hey, how’s it going with the murder case?”
Cora filled her in.
“Interesting,” Annie said. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure, why?”
“Let’s go research Jo,” Annie said, pulling her by the arm.
The two of them walked up the stairs to Annie and Vera’s room.
“I found her so odd,” Annie said. “The way she was mooning over her kids.”
“Funny, I didn’t think that at all. I felt sorry for her. I figured she was genuine,” Cora said.
Annie opened her laptop. “We all miss our kids,” she said. “We just don’t go around wearing it on our sleeves. And most of us realize how important it is to get away from them from time to time.” She switched the computer on, and a blue screen came up. Annie’s fingers glided over the keys, and within minutes, she pulled up some information about Jo.
“President of the PTA, who’d have thought?” Annie said wryly.
“What are you two doing in here?” Vera asked, walking into the room.
“Looking up Jo.”
“She certainly was an oddball,” Vera said.
“She has an arrest record,” Annie said with excitement.
“What?” Cora said, leaning in closer.
“I don’t believe it!” Vera said.
“Assault and battery,” Annie said. “Her husband charged her with it. Well, ex-husband it looks like.”
“Assault and battery? What does that mean?” Vera said.
“It means she tried to beat someone up,” Annie said. “It looks like it was her ex-husband.”
Cora immediately thought of Jane and how, on paper, she looked like an attempted murderess, when, in reality, she was defending herself. “Let’s not get carried away. Who knows what happened there.”
“That’s right,” Vera said. “She may have been pushed, and she pushed back harder.”
“Or she could be a domestic abuser,” Annie said.
“But she’s a woman,” Vera replied.
“Women can be abusers, too,” Annie said.
“How? I don’t get that, at all. Men are stronger than women,” Vera said.
“Yes, but some refuse to fight back,” Cora said. Those cases tugged at her heart. She remembered them. Men who had been abused. Could Jo be an abuser? On the face of things, she didn’t fit the profile. Cora had been around long enough to know how easily people were fooled. Often abusers were the nicest and friendliest folks to everybody but their spouse.
“I find it hard to believe,” Vera said. “I mean, if you say it happens, okay, but how odd.”
“Odd and sad,” Annie said. “But not any sadder than the other way around.”
“No,” Vera agreed.
“So we know she has a problem with violence of some sort,” Annie said. “Could she be the killer of Stan Herald?”
“Well, what we know is that Zee and Roni are not the killers,” Cora said. “That’s all we are confident about. And now we know that Jo has attacked her ex-husband, whether it was in self-defense or not.”
“Also, she seems to be on the run, right?” Annie asked.
“For all the world she looks guilty,” Vera said.
“Fighting is one thing, but killing is another thing. I won’t believe it until someone has the proof,” Cora said. No, she wouldn’t believe the doe-eye woman, who missed her children and had been staying in Kildare House, was a killer.
“Always a good policy,” Annie said.
“Oh! I just thought of something! What if she is a killer and is psycho or something? What if she comes back here?” Vera said.
Cora’s heart started racing.
“You and that imagination,” Annie said. “You should write novels.”
“Oh no, that would be so boring,” she said. “I’d have to sit in front of that same computer for hours and hours like you do.”
“No way around that if you’re a writer,” Annie said, trying to lighten the mood, Cora supposed.
Vera’s words rolled around in Cora’s mind and lodged there. While it was best to leave the chase to the police, it wouldn’t hurt for them to be extra careful, locking the doors at night, even the guests’ doors, which sucked. This was supposed to be a retreat, a relaxing break for mothers who had spent the entire summers being moms on overdrive.
But still, she wouldn’t want to see them harmed. If Jo was disturbed, she might come back to Kildare House. Unlikely. Cora shivered. But then again, none of what was going on was likely at all. Stan Herald was murdered. Roni figured she killed him when she shoved him and he fell back, hitting his head. But somehow, he ended up at the theater, where someone did kill him. Where Zee found him and tried to yank the blade out from his chest. There was a link missing.
“I think we need to figure out what happened,” Vera said.
“Maybe,” Annie said. “Or maybe we should let this one go. After all, we’re supposed to be relaxing and crafting, right?” She glanced at Cora.
“Oh, c’mon. What could be more fun than tracking down a killer?” Vera said, grinning.
“We don’t have a stake here,” Annie said after a minute. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. The police are on it, right?”
“Yes,” Cora said, but she was thinking about how the police had muddled things up so badly. Cora wondered if there would ever be justice in this case.
“You look as if... are you okay?” Vera said.
Cora bit her lip. “I am. Sorry, my mind is racing. I’m just wondering what we are missing. How did Stanley get from point A to B, bloody and with his head throbbing?”
“Was Jo in town then?” Annie asked.
“If she was, she hadn’t checked in here. The only two people who were here were Lena and Roni.”
“They seem pretty tight,” Vera said.
“They just met,” Cora said. “Hit it off immediately.”
&nbs
p; “It seems like they’ve known each other for years,” Annie said.
“Sometimes friendships happen like that, right?”
“Not for me,” Annie said, and went back to her computer.
Chapter 51
The crafters sauntered off for dinner. Jane and Cora stayed in and dined at Jane’s place. She baked a whole-wheat crust pizza with tomato sauce she’d made from tomatoes bought at the local farmer’s market. And the cheese was from a local cheese maker.
“I feel like this pizza should be in an ad for local food,” Cora said.
“Thanks?” Jane said as she opened a bottle of wine.
“Maybe we should have gone out to dinner with some of the crafters,” Cora said. “I like that they are getting so close.”
“Besides, we need some downtime, too,” Jane said, pouring the wine.
“This retreat has been a bit stressful,” Cora said.
“How are you doing?”
“I’ve had a few near misses,” Cora said. “But I’ve managed without taking medicine. So that’s good.”
Cora took a bite of her pizza. “Mmmmm.” She chewed her first bite, and her mouth exploded with the flavors. “Oh my God, it’s good.”
Jane beamed. “Yes, the fresh tomato sauce makes a difference.”
After they finished eating, the conversation turned to Jo.
“It’s hard to believe she’s the violent sort,” Jane said. “It’s interesting how, when some people are pushed, they become capable of so much more.”
“Indeed,” Cora said, then downed the last bit of wine in her glass.
“So my artist trading card friend is coming to town next week,” Jane said.
Cora sat forward. “How cool!”
“I’ve invited him to stop by,” she said.
“Are you sure that’s wise? I mean, he could be an ax murderer,” Cora said, half joking. It’s what Jane’s mother would say every time they went off to meet someone new.
“Why don’t you come, too? It’ll be fun. We can get axed together,” Jane said, and smirked.
“I don’t know. I’ve not seen Adrian in a while,” Cora said.
“Bring him, too,” she said. “There’s enough room for all of us.”
“Okay, besides Adrian can protect us if there’s an ax involved,” Cora said.
Jane lifted an eyebrow. “If we need protection, I’m betting on you.”
Cora laughed. She loved her geeky librarian boyfriend. He may not appear so, but he was strong. Jane didn’t need to know how she experienced that facet of her boyfriend.
“Hey,” Jane said. “What’s going on in your head? You’re starting to blush.”
“Nothing,” Cora said, turning her head. It was the scourge of being a redhead. She blushed like a teenager.
“I bet,” Jane said, and rose from the table, starting to clean up a bit.
“The place seems empty without London, doesn’t it?”
Jane nodded. “So much of the time, I’m craving peace and quiet. Now that I have it? I want the happy noise only she can give.”
“She’ll be home tomorrow,” Cora said. “Making all the noise you want, I’m sure.”
“Think we’ll have Jo by then?”
“Brodsky is on the case,” Cora said. “I assume he’ll have her soon.”
“I’m not sure I buy that she killed him, but I do wonder about her.”
“Yes, I feel a bit betrayed,” Cora said, and gathered her silverware and plate and took them to the sink, rinsing them off, handing them to Jane, who was loading the dishwasher. “I felt so sorry for her. She manipulated me.”
“Abusers are great at manipulation,” Jane said. “You ought to know that.”
“I do,” Cora said. “I didn’t know she was an abuser then.”
Jane’s eyelids drooped over her blue, dark-circled eyes. With her awareness of Jane’s weary state, Cora’s own kicked in. “I better go. I’m tired.”
Jane yawned. “Me too. One more day of retreating, then it’s on to firming up plans for the next one.”
Cora exited the carriage house after bidding Jane a good night and strolled through the garden to Kildare House. She stopped for a few minutes to enjoy the garden in the moonlight. Almost a full moon and the night sky lit with starlight. The light played off the greenery and flowers, giving them silvery hues. The magic of darkness and moonlight.
She continued up the back porch steps to the house, which was quiet and empty. She then climbed the stairs to her apartment, where a hungry Luna waited.
Cora stroked her, fed her, then readied herself for bed. She hoped her guests remembered to lock the door behind them when they came back from their evening out. She had a feeling they might.
She lay on her pillow, covered by her quilt, and stroked Luna. Cora was on edge. Not frightened, exactly, but worried about the situation with Jo. She was at-large and could be anywhere. Was she the killer? What would have been her motive? Poor Stan had plenty of people who might have considered killing him.
She rolled over, tucking the quilt close under her chin. Luna switched positions, purring, rolling into a ball. The moonlight was streaming in through Cora’s lace-covered window, making patterns on the floor. She drifted off, thinking about patterns.
She dreamed of Adrian. Him slipping into bed beside her, his arms circling her. So warm. She awakened with a start. “Shhh,” he said. Adrian! He’s here. It isn’t a dream.
“How did you get in?” she said.
“I have a key, remember?”
“But—”
“Shhh,” he said. “I just needed to hold you. I promise I’ll leave early. Your guests won’t even know I’m here.”
As he gathered her closer to him, with not a space between them, Cora drifted back off to sleep. She hadn’t realized this was exactly what she needed to lull her into rest.
Chapter 52
When Cora awakened the next morning, she was alone, except for Luna, wrapped around her head, which left her to briefly wonder if Adrian was ever there, or if she had just been dreaming. The scent of coffee proved that he was indeed here. He always made the coffee in the morning when they spent the night together.
She uncurled herself from the cat and her quilt, headed for the bathroom, then the kitchen. Poured herself some coffee. Today was the last day of the retreat. She couldn’t wait for this one to be over. No matter what they had done otherwise, it had been marred by all the drama. Murder on the eve of the first day, Zee being hauled off for questioning and kept for days, then Roni’s dramatic confession and return. And now, another one of the crafters looked awfully suspicious.
After her shower, Cora sat in front of her laptop to update her blog and respond to any e-mails or notes. Responses filled the screen. Writing back to all of them would take too much time. She glanced at the clock and realized she needed to be downstairs for breakfast soon.
She scrolled through the remarks about the felt bead class. One stood out. It was Jo. Jo?
Looks like a fun class. Sorry to miss it! But I needed to be home.
Oddly enough, even though Jo wrote that she was home, she wasn’t. Cora’s blog was outfitted with a geographic tracking system so that when readers posted, their location printed on the screen. “Indigo Gap” appeared right next to Jo’s name.
A wave of dizziness came over her. She felt as if she were sinking into the chair, as a weight pressed on her chest. This was bad. Jo was still in town. But where was she?
She picked up her cell phone and dialed Brodsky. No answer. Ach!
“It’s me, Cora,” she said into the answering system. “I think Jo is still in town. Call me back.”
Fear jolted through her. Breathe, she told herself. There was a slight possibility the tracker was wrong. It had happened before, where someone hadn’t refreshed their system, and it still listed Indigo Gap, and they were no longer here.
Also, so what if she were here? Right? If she did indeed come here to off Stan, then none of the rest of them had a
thing to fear.
Cora chilled. She reached for an afghan and wrapped it around her shoulders. Cold crept into her bones. It was the stress. She realized it. She needed to get a grip.
Jo might just be an excellent manipulator. Maybe she was nothing like she pretended. And why would she come back to Indigo Gap—or have stayed here—unless she had further business here? And just exactly what would that business be?
Where are you? Cora texted Jane.
On my way to the house, she replied quickly.
Can you come to my place first?
Sure. You okay?
I’m not sure, she responded.
Cora stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. Then she reached for her prayer beads and sat cross-legged on the floor. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slowly. Think of all the things and people you are grateful for. Think of beautiful yarn and thread. Think of Adrian. Luna chomped away at her cat food. Her fingers rubbed the cool stones.
Jane opened the door.
“What’s going on?”
Just then Cora’s phone rang. “Hold on. I’ll tell you both.”
She placed Brodsky on speaker.
“This better be good, Cora. It’s Sunday morning. You know how my wife feels about that,” he said, grouchy-voiced. “You said you think Jo is in Indigo Gap?”
“She left a message on my blog sometime during the night. Looks like about one A.M.”
“So?”
Jane sat down next to Cora on the floor. Luna walked over and rubbed against her.
“My blog has a geographic tracker on it, and it says right next to her name that she’s in Indigo Gap.”
Silence.
“Now,” Cora said, breathing deeply. “There’s a slight chance it could be off, or her system hasn’t updated. Slight.”
“Christ, Cora, we’ve got cops in two states looking for her,” he finally said.
“I know,” she said. “Do you think she’d come here to the retreat for any reason?”
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