“Nice-looking basset hound you got there,” he said, admiring Stanley.
“Oh, thanks. He lives next door. Actually, I have joint custody of him, but he spends most of his time with my neighbor Val because Gummie doesn’t like Stanley much.” I gave the dog a couple of pats on his side, and his fat tail thumped the wood floor in response.
Dr. Brown put the carrier on the table and opened it. Gummie slunk out. He looked down at Stanley and hissed. Instead of making a beeline for one of his favorite spots—the paisley chair—he stayed on the table, out of the dog’s reach.
“Nice house you have here. I bought a house a lot like this one a few blocks away last month. A real fixer-upper. Looks like you’ve been working on yours,” Dr. Brown said, admiring the living room and kitchen.
“I updated the rental unit next door first; now I’m playing catch-up with my side. I’m getting ready to renovate the attic. We’re starting work on it this week,” I said, giving Gummie some long pets down his back. “Any updates on Gumdrop?”
“We’ll have the lab results tomorrow, but other than being a little dehydrated, he seems like he is doing okay. Speaking of dehydrated, might I—”
“Oh, can I get you something to drink? Please make yourself comfortable,” I said, gesturing to my vintage velvet sofa.
“If it’s not too much trouble.” Buff settled onto the sofa.
“Water? A beer? Wine? Those are pretty much the only choices unless you want coffee.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose. Water is fine.”
“After the day I’ve had, a glass of wine sounds marvelous. Are you sure I can’t get you a glass?”
“Okay, if you’re going to twist my arm,” Buff said with a bark of a laugh. “As long it’s red.”
“It is.” I found two glasses and reopened the bottle of pinot noir left over from a couple of nights ago. I poured us each a glass of wine.
Gumdrop let out a loud yello.
“Oh, are you hungry now? Did Dr. Brown—”
“Call me Buff,” the vet said.
“Okay, then, did Buff feed you?” I asked the cat. I took a moment to put some of Gummie’s favorite savory salmon canned cat food into his bowl and set it on the table next to him. He sniffed it and walked away. “Dammit, Gummie, please eat.” I picked him up and turned him around, so he was facing his food bowl.
“As long as he’s drinking, I think it’s okay if he doesn’t eat much. He’s got plenty of meat on his bones to keep him going for quite some time.”
“Are you telling me my cat is fat?” I joked.
“He’s just right. I’m certain he’ll bounce back quickly. So, don’t worry,” he said with a smile.
As I crossed the kitchen with the wine, my foot skidded in something wet—Stanley’s drool, most likely. Red wine from one of the glasses splashed across the front of my blouse.
“Oh, no!” I set the glasses down on the kitchen table. “I’ll be right back. Please help yourself to the wine.” I slipped into the bathroom and pulled off my blouse then rinsed it in the sink to get the red wine out of it. I’d have to do a better job before the stain set, but for now, it was going to have to do. I wrapped a towel around my chest and got ready to bolt for my bedroom.
The doorbell rang. I shouted to Buff, asking him to answer the door. I hoped it was Val, because I wanted her to meet Dr. Brown. Although, since she was more than a little tipsy, I was uncertain what she might do, especially if she was interested in him. With only my bra on and a towel clutched to my chest, I poked my head out the bathroom door. No such luck. It wasn’t Val. It was Zachary. Oh dear.
I resisted the urge to squeal and instead sped into my bedroom and shut the door. I grabbed a T-shirt from the dresser drawer, slipped it on, and then skidded into the hallway.
“Zachary. So nice of you to stop by. Listen, I, uh. You’re not going to believe this, but…”
I was stumped. Did I tell him that Buff Brown was in my living room with a glass of wine after making a house call with Gumdrop? Or should I send Zachary away with no explanation at all?
After opening the door, Buff had settled down on the couch with his wine glass. Stanley was sitting at his feet. Zachary’s face showed no emotion, but I knew he must be upset. “I see you have company. I best be on my way,” Zachary said, turning to go.
“No, Zachary, don’t go. Let me explain,” I touched his arm, trying to make a connection and stop him from leaving.
“Oh, I think it’s pretty obvious. No need to explain.” And then he was gone.
I closed the door and turned back to Buff.
“Boyfriend trouble?” he asked, nodding toward the now-closed door.
“We hit a bit of a rough spot earlier today. I don’t think what just happened improved things much.”
“I’m sure you can explain it all to him, and he’ll come around,” he said. “So, Jax, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a glass beadmaker.”
“You’re kidding. Oddly enough, I’ve been looking for someone who makes glass beads.”
“I’ve got my studio here at my house. Want to see it?”
“Sure,” he said, following me down the hall to my studio.
“Why have you wanted to find a glass beadmaker? Not that many people know about it.”
“When I was at the old animal clinic in South Seattle, I used to buy beautiful dog jewelry from a woman named Marta, but somehow, she seems to have fallen off the face of the earth. A lot of my clients have been asking about her dog necklaces, and I’d love to carry some in my new practice.”
Marta was a glass beadmaker who had stayed at my house during the grand opening weekend of Aztec Beads last year. While Marta seemed nice, she certainly had some dark secrets that shocked us all when they were revealed. In fact, Stanley had belonged to Marta. I was surprised Buff hadn’t recognized the dog, but I supposed he met a lot of animals, and he obviously couldn’t remember all of them.
I showed Buff my torch and all of my tools, as well as my beads stacked in boxes in every available nook and cranny.
“Can you make me a bead?” Buff asked.
“Sure. How about I make one with a little paw print on it?”
“That would be spectacular.” He settled into a chair next to my workbench.
I started by turning on the natural gas and the oxygen to my torch, then lighting it. A perfect eight-inch-long blue flame burst from the tip of the torch.
“Okay, so now that I have my torch set just right, I’ll melt some red glass in the flame, and I’ll make a base bead.” Once I had a big enough blob of molten glass, I wrapped it around a mandrel—a stiff metal wire covered with a clay-like substance. I shaped the glass in the flame until it formed a flat disk.
“Now I’ll add an ivory paw print.” I added a pea-sized polka dot of glass and used a tungsten pick to give it the distinctive heart-shaped center of a paw and added four smaller dots of glass to make the toes. Then I melted them all in.
“That looks terrific, Jax,” Buff said. “Maybe you can make more for me. I’ll figure out what I want and then place an order, okay?”
“That would be fantastic,” I said, placing the bead into my kiln.
• • •
After Buff left, I found Gumdrop still sitting on the kitchen table, looking down disdainfully at Stanley who was snoozing on the floor below him. I grabbed my cat and brought him over to the sofa.
“How are you doing, big fella?” I asked as he arranged himself in my lap. He replied with a purr and by sinking his nails into my thigh. I stifled a yelp and took a swig of my pinot, then I screwed up my courage and called Zachary. The call went straight to voicemail.
“Hey, hi, it’s Jax. I wanted to say that there is really no need for you to be upset. That guy was my vet, I mean, Gumdrop’s vet. Okay, bye,” I said, adding, “please call me b
ack.”
Tessa called a few minutes later.
“How are things going with the gala?” I asked.
“Terrible! With Austin Greer’s death, his wife has decided to pull the plug on the event and close the theater.”
“They can’t do that! And what about Hamlet? They’re going to shut that down as well?”
“Amanda Greer said that without Austin, she doesn’t want to keep the theater open. I’m not sure what happens with Hamlet, but it is a tragedy.” I wasn’t sure if Tessa got her own joke. “Is there anywhere else you can think of to have the auction and fashion show?” she asked.
“Not at this late date.”
“Che casino!” Tessa said, switching into Italian. “I really thought we were going to pull off this event and then this happens!”
“HAT needs the money. You’d think Austin’s wife would want to have the event in memory of her husband.”
“Apparently Mrs. Greer doesn’t see it that way. Her assistant, Nika, informed us a few minutes ago. We’re all going home.”
“Oh, I bet your girls are devastated.”
“They are. All the girls are. So is Jaya.”
“Maybe we can convince Mrs. Greer that it’s still a worthwhile event, and that it’s a way to carry on Austin’s legacy. Wait a minute—I have an appointment to see Amanda Greer tomorrow. She wanted to see my beads.”
“That’s great, maybe you could convince her to let us keep going and delay shutting down the theater.”
“I don’t know, a lot has changed for her since we set up the appointment. She may not even want to have me visit. I’ll get in touch with her assistant and see if Mrs. Greer still wants me to come.”
Tessa wished me good luck and we ended our call.
I texted Nika to confirm that Amanda still wanted me to come over with my beads. Minutes later, my phone pinged, and I had a message confirming Amanda Greer was expecting me the following morning at ten.
NINE
As I drove the Ladybug through the posh neighborhood in the hills overlooking Lake Washington, I reflected on what it must be like to live on a street like this, with perfectly landscaped lawns, wide driveways, and lake views.
The Greer house was much like many of the other mansions in the area. Theirs was colonial. Its tall, pale columns flanked the front door and had no sense of warmth or hospitality. That and the gated entrance I’d had to pass through made me feel less than welcome. I parked in the curve of the circular driveway and hoisted my oversized tote from the trunk of my car. It contained everything I wanted to show Mrs. Greer today.
Nika answered the door. “Hi, Jax, so nice to see you again. Please come in.”
“Thanks,” I said, stepping inside. The foyer was vast—nearly the size of my living room. I wondered how anyone could keep such a huge house clean. Actually, I knew how they did it—they had staff. My only staff was Gumdrop, and he was pretty useless, except as an unwitting dust mop. I glanced up and saw a beautiful art glass chandelier. I recognized the style immediately—it had been made by Vega. I pushed away thoughts of a similar chandelier falling on Austin just days ago and took a deep breath to calm my nerves.
“I’m so very sorry about Mr. Greer. His passing must have been hard on you and Mrs. Greer,” I said.
“Thank you. Yes, this has been a trying time for the entire Greer family,” Nika said. She was younger than me, in her thirties I guessed. I, on the other hand, was on my long, slow slide toward fifty. Nika was slender and had a professional air about her. With her cropped navy business jacket, matching slacks, and white scoop-necked silk shirt, she seemed like exactly the kind of person who would be a personal assistant for a wealthy couple. “Please come in. Mrs. Greer is expecting you.”
The interior of the mansion was as ostentatious as the exterior. It made me realize that’s just how Austin had been—ostentatious, or was that Austin-tatious? His arrogance didn’t seem at all in sync with his volunteer work. Even though Austin Greer had been eccentric, he had also been a respected philanthropist by all accounts. I couldn’t imagine who would have wanted him dead.
As we walked through the house, I wondered what it would be like to live in a mansion with a five-car garage, marble entry with clerestory windows, an expansive view of the lake, and elegant oriental rugs in hues of blues and greens—my favorite colors. Nika took me to an opulent study. The floor-to-ceiling windows, flanked with burgundy velvet draperies, let in gorgeous light on this sunny spring afternoon. Removing a crystal vase of flowers from a round cherrywood library table, she asked me if the spot would work for setting up my wares. I told her it was perfect.
“Would you like some coffee?” Nika asked.
“Oh, yes, I would love some, thanks—if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No problem at all,” Nika said, gliding out the door.
I pulled a black velvet cloth from of my tote and spread it out across the small round table. Then I took out trays of beads and jewelry from my bag and arranged them. Nika returned with a silver coffee service for two while I organized my wares.
I had just finished setting up when Amanda Greer entered the study. She was a petite woman, her short hair artfully coiffed into a strawberry blonde pageboy. She wore a flowing multi-colored batik skirt with a wide belt, along with a vibrant red mandarin-collared blouse with an egg-sized silver pendant on a silk cord around her neck. It seemed out of scale for her slender frame, but somehow it worked for her.
“Hello. I’m Amanda,” she said, giving my hand a dainty side-to-side handshake.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied.
“Did you bring me some treasures?” she asked, clasping her hands together at her chest, dozens of silver bangles on her wrists clinking together as she did.
“I did. Oh, and my deepest sympathy for Austin’s passing—he said you might like to see my glass beads.”
“Thank you. Yes, yes, it’s a hard time right now. So much to sort out, but you didn’t come to hear about the dreadful death of my husband. Please show me what you have. I don’t get out too often, so it’s a treat to have a visitor come and bring me beautiful things, especially right now.” She poured herself a coffee and offered one to me. I took the cup and thanked her.
“I brought some loose beads and some glass jewelry, too. I wasn’t sure what you might be interested in,” I said, picking up a set of three beads that all coordinated. “I made them in a torch with Italian glass. I’ve got a few different color combinations.”
“Ah, they’re delightful. As are these necklaces.” She picked up one of the pieces. It was a set of matching turquoise glass beads with tiny flower and vine decorations, strung together on a satin cord. She turned to a large gilt-framed mirror hanging behind her and held the strand to her slender neck.
“What do you think? No, wait, let’s ask Nika.” Amanda pressed a small silver button on the wall by the light switch. Nika entered the room seconds later.
“What is it, Mrs. Greer?”
“I want you to look at this jewelry Jax brought. It’s absolutely lovely,” Amanda said.
“That’s a pretty necklace,” Nika said, pointing to the one Amanda was holding.
“I agree. I’d like to buy it. And which one would you like?” Amanda asked Nika.
“Oh, that’s okay, you don’t need to buy me anything,” Nika said with a shake of her head.
“I insist.”
Nika approached the table and looked at the pieces I had brought with me, while I stood back and sipped my coffee.
“I like this bracelet,” Nika said, trying on a dark blue beaded cuff.
“Then it’s yours,” Amanda said. “Thank you, Jax, for bringing your beautiful things.” Amanda smiled weakly. It was clear her husband’s recent death had taken its toll. “I’d also like to order twenty loose beads for some new jewelry I’m creating, like these.” She held
out the necklace with the beads I had made in a frail hand.
“Of course, that would be wonderful. I can give you the wholesale price on those.”
“Oh, no need, dear. We believe in supporting artists. You can work out the payment with Nika.”
“Thank you. I’d love to see what you make with them,” I said, as I packed up my things.
“Nika? That will be all. Thank you,” Amanda said, and Nika hurried from the room.
“Austin told me you import beads from Thailand,” I said as I busied myself loading the trays back into my tote.
“I do. Silver beads of all types. I keep them mostly for the jewelry I make, which I sell through some of the better catalogs—you know, Gump’s, Metropolitan Museum, and such. Come, and I’ll show you my warehouse.”
Amanda and I walked through her home, which looked like a spread from Architectural Digest. She guided me through a set of French doors into her beautiful garden and through a breezeway that connected to a small building that appeared to be a converted carriage house. The inside was lined with tables covered in thousands of strands of Thai silver beads.
“Oh, my,” I said, astounded by the sheer quantity of silver beads in all shapes and sizes heaped inside plastic bins on ten banquet-sized wooden tables.
“Yes, it is quite impressive,” Amanda said with a smile. “Nika is doing a stupendous job running my mail-order business, but she needs a helper, poor thing.”
It did seem like Nika had all sorts of jobs she did for the Greers. Nika walked among the tables pulling strands out of bins and checking them off a form attached to a clipboard as she filled an order.
“If you decide you want to buy any silver beads at all, please give Nika a call. She’ll give you our best wholesale price. Now, I’m so sorry, but I have an associate coming over for a meeting, so I must dash. Nika—can you please show Jax the way out? And make sure she gets paid?”
It was now or never. I needed to ask Mrs. Greer about whether she would allow the theater to stay open so we could have our gala for HAT. I wouldn’t get another opportunity, although I was nervous to ask, not knowing how she’d react. My throat was tight as I started to speak.
To Bead or Not to Bead, Glass Bead Mystery Series, Book 4 Page 7