Chapter 6
Cora marveled at the scene around her. She stood in the center of a group of police officers and hotel management staff listening to the same story repeated over and over again. Why did she continually find herself in the middle of these situations?
Taking advantage of the opportunity to closely examine the tiara, Cora realized crown was a better word for the headpiece. Sea-green glass chunks were housed in twisted delicate wires. In between pieces of glass were seashells and what Cora had assumed were rhinestones, but all the fuss suggested diamonds. In the center of the crown, two wires shot up shaped into spirals, with glitter and stones set inside. The effect was delicate, yet bold, and Cora was in awe of the design and the skill. Even in the plastic evidence bag, it sparkled and glittered.
“Did you make this?” a police officer asked Mathilde as Cora entered the room.
“Yes!” Mathilde Mayhue said. “It’s one of my pieces.” She grabbed it from the officer who was holding it.
He snatched it back. “Excuse me, but this is evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” she said, almost shrill.
Cora was glad Jane had taken London back to the room to relax.
“A child found this on the beach. It’s Marcy Grimm’s. This might be a clue to a homicide.”
“Are you talking about murder, on this of all weekends?” she said in a hushed tone. “I have a retreat to run!”
Cora walked over to her. Mathilde’s face was gruesome white, yet the officer remained unconcerned.
“Oh, Cora!” Mathilde said. “How could this be? How could this have happened to me? To my retreat?”
“It will be okay,” Cora found herself saying, even though she was shocked by Mathilde’s reaction. After all, a young bride had just been killed. “We’ll continue with the event in spite of all this.”
“How?”
“One class at a time. We march forward and do what we are supposed to do. People came a long way to be here and we’re going to give them what they want,” Cora said.
“You’re right, of course.” Mathilde turned her attention back to the police officer. “I want that returned when you’re finished with it.”
The officer’s mouth dropped open.
“Returned to me,” she said. “I’ll refund the money to the family, or whatever they want.”
“That will be up to the family,” the officer said. “In the meantime, this is evidence. When we’re finished with it, it will go back to her family, as is regulation.”
Mathilde opened her mouth, as if to say something, and then changed her expression, as if she thought better of it.
“So, let me be clear about this,” the officer said. “This is the piece you designed for Marcy Grimm?”
She nodded.
“She wore it at her wedding yesterday?”
“As far as I know. I didn’t attend the wedding,” she said, tight-lipped.
“Thank you. That will be all,” he said.
“It’s getting kind of late,” Cora said to Mathilde. “Why don’t we have a drink or something?”
She glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry, Cora. I need to help Zooey set up for tomorrow.”
“Can I help?” Cora said.
“Certainly,” Mathilde responded.
They walked out of the day care center, now teeming with parents, police, and hotel employees, through the vast lobby, down the Mermaid Hall to the retreat area of the resort.
Zooey was in the classroom already, her blond hair pulled into a sloppy bun, and her lithe body covered in a gauzy, nearly see-through dress.
A much younger man flitted around her. He seemed as if he stepped right off the beach—surfer blond hair and a dark tan, ripped biceps, and shoulders displayed by a white tank top. He certainly did not look like a crafty guy.
“Thanks, Tom,” Zooey said to him as he finished hanging several macramé plant holders of blues and greens and a variety of knots and patterns.
She smiled at Cora. “We’re going to make these in class tomorrow. I’ve precut the cording. We need to place it and the tools on each chair and then I think we’re done. Not much work left. Tom helped earlier.”
“What a cool chair!” Cora said, noticing the hanging macramé chair in the corner.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s one of my favorite things to make.”
“Seems complicated,” Cora remarked.
“Time consuming maybe, but not complicated,” Zooey said, setting up a board with several different sample knots on it. “I listen to music, get in my zone, and go for it.”
Cora studied the labeled knots. Chinese crown knot. Half-knot sinnet. Genovese waved bar. Alternating lark’s head braid.
“Where do you want your books?” Mathilde asked Zooey.
“I think in the other corner there.”
Mathilde scooted a table and Cora moved to help her. Tom carried over a box of books.
“I think we should leave the books in the boxes until the morning,” Mathilde said. “I mean, this area is secure, but I think I’d feel better.”
Zooey tucked an empty box under a table. “It will be okay,” she said. “I don’t think there will be time in the morning to place the books out and so on.”
Cora placed the packs of cord and instructions on the classroom chairs. She wasn’t going to involve herself in the decisions; this wasn’t her retreat. But she wondered why Mathilde was worried about leaving Zooey’s books out overnight. The area was secure and secluded.
Not my retreat. She repeated those words in her head. She liked being in charge of her own retreat. But this was a pleasant feeling as well. All she was responsible for was showing up and giving her blogging class. Plus, she wanted to take some crafting classes if she could. She might even do some crafting herself.
Cora checked her phone. No messages yet, which led her to believe Adrian was still detained at the police station. Once this business with the police was resolved, Cora was sure this craft retreat was going to be fabulous. But for now, she needed to know what was going on with Adrian.