High Strung: A Glass Bead Mystery (The Glass Bead Mystery Series) (14 page)

Tessa
headed up the outside staircase, giving me a long backward glance as she went.

I closed the gate to the patio and was struck with the vision of Dylan walking in through this gate last night at the party. Dylan had been in
the alley around the time Misty was murdered. I had no idea what it meant, if anything, but it certainly didn’t look good for Dylan, because there was absolutely no reason for him to have been in the alley, other than what was likely the truth: He simply wanted to sneak in and avoid the crush of people.

I wandered into the classroom to see what was happening.
My poor brain was on overload, and I thought it might be fun to see part of a class, since I’d not seen much so far.

“
And now we have Marta and her dog collars,” Judy announced from the front of the room. She applauded, and Marta began her presentation.

I stood in the back of the room
, leaning against the wall.

“
Hello there, Jax, great to see you survived last night,” Allen said as he sidled up close to me, and gave me a warm smile. I was glad he was being so friendly, and that my heroics from last night hadn’t scared him away. Maybe that quick view of my Spanx was enough to make him want to see more, although I seriously doubted it. I turned and smiled at him. He was a bit of sunshine in my otherwise cruddy day. I really wanted to talk with him, but Marta was getting started, so we had to keep quiet.

“F
irst of all, for our very, very special friends, we do not call them dog collars,” Marta said, giving Judy a cold glance. “That is just so insulting. I call them ‘dog jewelry.’”

Allen and I looked at each other skeptically.

“Our most popular items are dog necklaces. Some doggies will wear bracelets. But we find they just want to chew them off.”

“
I would,” Allen whispered.

I tried not to laugh
as Marta continued.

“
We are also looking into a line of microchip piercings for an edgier look.”

Allen raised his hand.
“Can you explain what that means?” I couldn’t tell if he was having fun, or really wanted to know what she was talking about.

“Y
ou know how you can get a little microchip put under a dog’s skin so the owner can be located if the dog gets lost? I am working with a vet so we can make a fashion statement out of those microchips. The little piece of silicon can be embedded into a pierced earring with a big rhinestone on it.”

“
Or, maybe a metal stud for the butch dogs, like a Doberman,” Allen suggested, playing along.

“
Exactly,” Marta said enthusiastically. I had to turn away and pretend to cough so I didn’t break out laughing.

“
We are also developing a line of tail decorations.”

Ew
.

“D
oesn’t that get too close, you know, to the bodily functions?” I asked, as appropriately as possible.

“
Yes, well, that has been a challenge, and we are still working on it. That’s why, for now, I’m focused on the necklaces. For today’s demonstration, I’ll be showing you how to make a cute little charm for your dog to wear around his or her neck.”

Marta proceeded to show us how to use wire to make a charm by stacking a series of beads together and then making a loop at the top.

“And you’re done! Easy, right?” Marta said, and everyone in the audience gave a respectful few claps.

As others had done, Marta spent some time
after her workshop talking with potential customers at the front of the classroom. “My basic necklace design has a series of four glass beads, two on each side of the identification tag. I have several different designs to choose from: paw prints, flowers, bones, and hearts. Each of these is sewn to a high-quality fabric ribbon. Then, I add other adornments to the necklace, like pressed beads from the Czech Republic, Japanese seed beads, and semi-precious stones.”

“How much does one of these ‘necklaces’ cost?” Allen asked.

“T
he custom orders cost $275. And the ‘off the shelf’ version that contains one of each of the handmade bead designs is a bargain at $175,” Marta said earnestly.

“
A bargain,” I whispered into Allen’s ear.

“
Do you have any idea how many minutes that collar would last on my black lab?” Allen asked me quietly.

“Ten
minutes?”

“
Max.”

“
In addition to the dog jewelry,” Marta continued, “I make individual beads of many of the most popular dog breeds. I’ve got a sample of some of them on my display pedestal. They’re only $100, and for an additional fee, I can customize the bead to look like your own animal companion,” said Marta, with a broad smile.

We wandered over to look at the glass dog beads. They didn
’t look good. All of them were too melted and droopy, like they had been in a hot torch for too long.

“
I think she should stick to the dogs with lots of wrinkles, you know, all the hounds, shar-peis, maybe some bulldogs,” I whispered, examining what was supposed to be a chocolate lab, but looked more like a Hershey’s Kiss.

“M
aybe she just needs some lessons from you,” Allen said, as he looked over my shoulder at the beads.

“
Oh, flattery will not get you anywhere.” Although what I was really thinking was that flattery could actually get him almost anywhere with me.

“
Damn, I thought that might work,” Allen said, giving my shoulders a soft squeeze.

Marta came hustling over to me.
“Oh, Jax, some doggie-lovers want to take me out to dinner, so I won’t be home for a while.”

“
What about Stanley?”

“
Oh, he’ll be fine. Just take him out once or twice to do his you-know-what. Okay?”

“
I don’t really—”

“
Oh, Jax, really, thanks.”

I
watched through the front window of the shop as Marta toddled off toward her SUV with a couple of bead ladies.

“
How are you feeling after last night? How is Rosie?” Allen asked.

“
Rosie is still in the hospital and recovering, but I’m a wreck. Did you hear about the young beadmaker, Misty?”

“
I want to hear all the updates. Seems like great deal has happened since I saw you speed away in the ambulance last night.” That was an understatement.

“
How about I invite myself over and cook you dinner?” Allen asked.

“That would be great,” I said.
I’d never had a guy make food for me. Jerry ordering pizza, slicing it, and putting it on a paper plate didn’t qualify as cooking, in my mind.

“
You go home and relax, and I’ll come by later with some groceries. Do you need a lift?”

“
No, I’ve got my car. See you around 7:00?”

It felt great to have a man want to hear about my day and to feed me.
I could get used to that.

Once I got home, I stripped off my clothes, and was tempted to throw them away like I had the night before. Instead, I aimed them at the hamper. If I kept throwing my clothing away after every traumatic event, I’d soon have nothing left to wear.

I showered
, gave my hair the world’s fastest blow-dry, and once again was faced with the dilemma of what to wear. Do I wear something fancy? That was probably not the best thing, since Allen was just coming over to make dinner. If I wore what I usually did when I was hanging around at home, he’d be pretty unimpressed with my oldest jeans and a big floppy t-shirt. I put on some cute black stretchy pants. Some people would call these yoga pants. However, since I’ve never done yoga in them, and had no plans to do yoga in them, I think it is rather misleading to call them “yoga pants.” I added a silky purple top—long enough to cover my backside without looking frumpy—and, of course, a fabulous necklace. I chose a long silver chain with a pendant. It was deep purple and covered with dots, each one looking like a small bull’s-eye.

A few minutes before seven, I headed down the hall, passing the guest room. I could hear Stanley snoring inside.
I lay down on the sofa to rest my eyes. It had been a long couple of days, with not enough sleep.

When the doorbell rang
, I jumped up, startled. This had been a weekend of being wrenched from sleep by the doorbell. I tried to smooth myself out before I answered it.

“
Pike Place Market! I never get tired of going there.” Allen dropped his leather messenger bag on the floor by one of my kitchen table’s big claw-footed legs, then plopped two bags on the counter containing the ingredients for our dinner. “I love all of the beautiful displays of fruits and vegetables. The fish-sellers throwing salmon around! Oh, and the flowers,” Allen said enthusiastically, as he whipped out a beautiful bouquet of vibrant spring flowers from of one of the bags. “I thought you could use something to cheer you up after a difficult couple of days.”

“
Oh thank you, Allen,” I said giving him half of a hug. Oh, he smelled good, like spearmint. In a good way. Not in the “crazy woman’s cat dumped catnip-laced mojito on me” way. I retreated to the china hutch to see if I could find a vase for the flowers. I was glad I’d turned away from Allen because I was feeling flushed at that moment.

Just relax and have fun.

That’s what Val would say. She’d say more than that, but I told that little voice inside my head to behave itself. I wished my kitchen was nicer than it was, with its funky old cabinets looking like they’d be more suited for a garage than someone’s home. I’d tried to jazz up the kitchen with a glass mosaic backsplash, but glass will only go so far in turning a sow’s ear into a silk purse. The image of a pig wearing big earrings made of sparkling beads made me smile, and then, finally, I was able to relax and turn back to Allen, with the flowers now in a pretty art glass vase.

He pulled out a nice bottle of
zinfandel from one of the bags. “Finally, we get to have our bottle of wine.” He opened the drawer next to my fridge and pulled out the opener. I looked at him quizzically, hard to believe he was feeling so at home in my kitchen, and that he, like Gumdrop, had psychic powers.

“
I made drinks in this kitchen a couple of nights ago, remember? I found the wine opener right next to the muddler.”

“
The muddler you used to mash the catnip?” I asked, trying to smile after such a catastrophe. He must have recovered because he was here at my house once again. I was glad we could joke about it.

“
And your cat, is he going to come and attack me for some random reason tonight?”

“
Gumdrop disappeared! He ran away, or is really good at hiding. I’m not sure which.”

“
I hope he wasn’t traumatized after his frenzy with me, or maybe that should be
on
me.”

“
I’m pretty sure it was because a dog moved in for the weekend, and well, Gumdrop doesn’t like dogs.”

I found two wineglasses that actually matched and had no chips in them, and poured the wine.

“To Gumdrop, and his safe return,” toasted Allen.

“
To Gummie, I miss you.” We clinked glasses as Allen stepped closer to me, looking over the top of his glass with a smile. He stopped to admire the pendant I was wearing. He picked up the bead from my chest, pausing just a little longer than I was comfortable with, to examine piece closely. I tried to look calm, but inside I was hyperventilating. I was really out of practice with how to do this dating thing, so I broke away before I grabbed him, which I didn’t think would be an appropriate move so early in the evening.

“
Sooooo, let’s get dinner started,” I said, moving past him. “This is an ancient AGA stove. It is tricky to use but just too lovely to get rid of.” Aunt Rita’s old stove was a cheerful yellow enamel color, and solid as a rock. I had planned to learn to cook well enough that I’d be able to do more with my oven than bake a potato, though I’d not made much progress so far. I hoped, as well, that someday I’d be able to remodel the whole kitchen around this stove. For now, all I could afford was a new coat of paint, provided that Rudy stopped watching old sci-fi movies with Val long enough to give me a quote.

Allen made a wonderful dinner: a lovely piece of sautéed salmon with dill and lemon sauce, a crisp green salad, a crunchy loaf of bread, and a tiny box of truffles for dessert.

We brought the last of the wine and the truffles over to the sofa.

“Do you want a truffle?”
Allen asked. What a silly question. I’d never said no to chocolate in my whole life.

“
Absolutely.”

From a golden box, Allen extracted a truffle
, covered delicately with cocoa powder.

“
Open your mouth.”

Oh dear. He was going to feed me a truffle. I couldn
’t say no, so I acquiesced, trying to chew as sexily as possible. I waited until I’d swallowed before I spoke, as my mother had taught me.

“
Delicious,” I said, and just as the words came out of my mouth, he reached right over and kissed me. I hadn’t expected that.

“
Oh yes, very delicious,” Allen agreed, pulling me close. “Want another?” I wasn’t sure if he was asking if I wanted another truffle or another kiss.

“
No, I’m fine, I’ll have another a little later.”

I could have said yes. Why didn’t I say yes?

“Show me the beads you made the other night,” Allen requested, changing gears and standing, knowing he’d been rebuffed, although I hadn’t meant it.

“
Oh, right, I haven’t looked at them yet,” I said, changing direction right along with him. “It always delights me to see how my beads have turned out when I pull them out of the kiln. There are always surprises, usually good ones.”

I spotted Allen
’s messenger bag under the table as we got up to go to the studio. I thought we’d better not leave it unattended, in case Stanley woke up and decided it looked like a good snack.

“
I’ll just pick this up,” I said reaching under the table and fumbling for the strap. “We’ve got a dog staying here right now who likes to chew on fine leather goods.”

As I started to pick up Allen
’s satchel, he ran over to take it from me. As I lifted it, the strap caught on the bottom of the bag, and its contents came spilling out. Several large glass beads fell out and scattered across the hardwood floor.

They were b
eads from many different beadmakers—the beautiful pieces from Rosie’s special necklace, and several of my beads too.

“
Where did you get these beads?” I asked.

Immediately Allen was down on his hands and knees.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he said, frantically picking up the beads, and scooping them back into his bag.

“
I don’t know what it looks like to you, Allen, but to me it looks like someone has been stealing beads.” I yanked at the strap of his bag.

“
It’s not like that. I can assure you,” he said.

“
And these beads of mine—they’re from the bracelet I had on at the party.”

“
I can explain. Really.”

“Let’s hear it,” I said, standing over him.

“I found the beads when I was cleaning up after the ambulance left,” Allen said. “I was trying to take care of them, to keep them safe.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone you had them?”

“I didn’t think they mattered. I thought I’d hold onto them until Rosie was out of the hospital.”

“They’re needed for a police investigation.”

“Police investigation? Because of Rosie’s accident?”

“The detective thinks what happened to Rosie might not have been an accident,” I said.

“Really, Jax, I had no idea,” Allen said. “Don’t you believe me?”

“I can’t figure out why you wouldn’t have given the beads to someone at the bead shop. You could have left them there today.”

I thought about what Detective Grant had said. The beads were evidence he needed in order to find the person who strangled Rosie. Could Allen have stolen the beads to hide evidence?

“A
re you trying to protect someone by keeping these beads from the police? Or, maybe you’re the one trying to avoid being implicated in Rosie’s attempted murder.”

“Jax, that’s just crazy, why would I want to kill Rosie? I don’t even know her.” Allen stood up, gripping his bag’s strap tightly.

“Leave the beads here. I have officially confiscated them. I’ll be calling Detective Grant in the morning to let him know you’ve been found with crucial evidence.”

He scooped the beads out of his messenger bag and put them on the table, leaving several lying on the floor. He
slung the bag onto his shoulder, and walked out the door, not looking back.

I carefully placed all of the beads in a Ziploc bag and left them on the coffee table. I wanted them to be safe until I could call the detective in the morning.

Did Allen have any reason to hide evidence? Could he have something to do with the attack on Rosie? Or Misty’s murder? Was Allen just a thief? Or a murderer?

Seconds later, there was a knock on
the front door.

“
Look, Allen—,” but it wasn’t Allen. It was Val.

“Geez, Val. Get in here,”
I said ushering her in.

“
I see you were entertaining a man here tonight.” Entertaining made it sound like I had my tap shoes on, and was singing a show tune.

“
Yes, I was,” I said, noticing my jaw was clenched tight. I tried to loosen it by rubbing my cheek and opening my mouth a little.

“
But I’m confused. He just left, and you slammed the door. And, it’s only ten o’clock. That’s not usually how these evenings end,” Val said.

“
That’s not how they end for
you
, Val. For me, that’s how this one ends.” Pretty much every other date I’ve had recently has ended in a catastrophic way.

“
Oh, darling,” Val said, “I’m so sorry.” She gave me a big hug that nearly crushed me. That girl didn’t know her own strength.

“
I caught him stealing. He had beads from Rosie’s necklace, and a bunch of my beads too.”

“
Oh goodness, honey, I didn’t think guys stooped so low as to steal beads. Did he explain himself?”

“He tried to, but I’m not sure I believed him.”

“Let’s just relax and finish this wine,” Val said picking up the bottle. “Oh, zinfandel, my favorite.” Every kind of wine was Val’s favorite, especially when she didn’t have to pay for it. “Ohhhh, and truffles! We’ll bring those with us, too.”

“
Do you mind if we sit out back?” I asked. “I need to cool down.”

Val and I walked through the house and out to the patio behind my studio. We sat at the little bistro table, wrapped in the fleece blankets I kept out back to use on chilly Seattle nights like this one.
“Cheers!” I said, once we’d gotten settled.

“
Back at ’cha,” said Val, taking a sip and settling into her chair.

When the wine was gone, Val went home, a
s usual. I crawled into bed but couldn’t sleep. I didn’t have Gumdrop to snuggle with. I remembered I needed to check my email and see if anyone had responded to the Craigslist posting about Gumdrop. I grabbed my laptop and flopped back onto the bed. As long as Marta was visiting I didn’t have my office to work in, so my bed would have to do. I logged in. I didn’t have any mail, except for spam offering to increase my penis size (unlikely) and another message requesting me to send large sums of money to an African country (unwise).

As I sat there looking at
the laptop’s screen, I thought about Andy. My geeky brother Andy. He’d gone to school at the University of Miami and gotten a degree in computer science in just three years. Then he went out to California to get a PhD to take his level of genius a step higher. These days he was the founder of a randomly named software company called Pook that specialized in cyber-security. The best thing about having a family member who works in the Internet security business is that they can do hi-tech snooping for you.