Chapter 26
Jane stood in the room with the other craft retreaters, trying to calm her nerves. She wasn’t the sort to have anxiety problems, like Cora. But the situation scared her. Someone had killed Zooey. Today. Could be someone in this room. Who knew? People were getting offed left and right. Women. First Marcy Grimm, now Zooey, the macramé artist. Tom, Zooey’s assistant, was rushed off in an ambulance. For a few moments, Jane herself thought she’d have to ask for medication, as well. How bloody awful.
She was surrounded by strangers. Okay. Some of them were her students. But still, they were strangers. Poor Katy and her crew—they had walked in on the body. Linda was okay. She was a nurse. But the rest of them? In shock, every one of them. They were whisked off to a quiet room.
Finally, in a sea of strange faces came one she recognized, one she yearned for at times like these: Cora. Cora, even with all her own issues, was the person to have near you in crisis. She knew what to say. She knew what to do.
“Hey,” Cora said, and reached for her, giving her a warm hug. “Are you okay?”
“A little shaken,” Jane said. “I didn’t see . . . Zooey. But a group of women did. She was in the room when they walked in.”
“Why don’t we sit down,” Cora said, and led her to a group of chairs.
Jane sat down and watched Cora walk to the bar, where they were handing out glasses of wine like it was candy. The room was hushed.
“I’m not sure this is the best idea. Maybe Mathilde should have sent them off to their rooms,” Cora said.
“She was probably in shock herself,” Jane said. “Can you imagine?”
Cora probably could. But Jane understood Cora didn’t want to think about what would happen if one of her retreat teachers or guests was killed. Other things cropped up, though. Identity theft. A male teacher who couldn’t keep it in his pants. And Cora’s own best friend accused of murdering the town librarian—that would be her. That was enough. They both wanted smooth sailing from here on out.
Cora sat down in the chair next to Jane. “I was reading about the Adair Development thing online and examined some of the drawings and proposed resort.”
“Isn’t that kind of what Cashel is doing?” Jane asked, and took another drink from her wine. A warming sensation traveled through her body.
“Who knows what the man is doing? I’ve not heard from him. I wanted to read up on the situation. The Grimm family has been trying to put a stop to the proposed resort,” Cora said.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Jane said. “That took you . . . what fifteen minutes? . . . to find out, and Cashel’s been gone all day?”
“Forget about Cashel,” Cora said. “He’s not even going to tell us anything he finds out.”
Forget about Cashel. She should. He annoyed Jane more and more. She was certain he liked Cora. At one point, she thought Cora liked him. But Cora was crazy about Adrian.
“So what did Zooey have to do with anything?” Jane said in a hushed tone. “I mean, she’s not from here, is she? Why would she care about this island like that?”
“I may be barking up the wrong tree, but people get crazy when it comes to big money, property, and saving their land, and so on. I’m betting these murders are linked and that it has something to do with all the proposed development,” Cora said.
“But Zooey had nothing to do with any of that,” Jane said.
“Not that we know. But what do we know about her?” Cora said, and sipped from her wineglass. “Even her last name is secret.”
“Well, that’s easy enough to find out. There will be obituaries, articles in the paper, that kind of thing. We’ll know all about her soon enough. She was quite popular,” Jane said. “A very successful macramé artist.”
Her words hung in the air.
Poor woman.
Cora nodded. “She was gifted. But I tell you, something was off about her.”
“What do you mean?”
“First of all, I don’t like the one-name thing. What’s that about? Second, I didn’t like the way she shook my hand. Or didn’t shake it. I mean, her hand was limp. It was off-putting,” Cora said.
“I noticed that, too,” Jane said.
Adrian was making his way toward them. He wore a green shirt that matched his eyes. Cora lit up as she waved to him.
“He’s into you,” Jane said.
“Of course,” Cora replied.
“But how into him are you?”
“What do you mean?” Cora said, her face falling.
“I mean you don’t trust the guy. It’s obvious,” Jane said. She drained her wineglass.
“That’s not quite true,” Cora said, but her face was getting pink.
“Yes, it is,” Jane said.
Cora appeared to be mulling over what Jane said. “Well,” she said, “I don’t trust people easily. You understand. Especially men. I’m just getting to know him.”
“He’s not given you any reason not to trust him, Cora,” Jane said.
“His half-truths bother me,” Cora said.
“Get over it,” Jane said. “Not everybody opens up as easily as you do. Besides, he’s a guy. He’s more quiet and reticent than most. But I thought you liked that.”
“I do, but this weekend has been strange. He’s been acting oddly, you know? But I think we’re on the right track,” Cora said.
“I think it would help if you slept with him,” Jane said, with a wink.
Cora’s face turned bright red and she laughed. “As if that would solve everything.”
“What’s going on?” Adrian asked as he reached them.
“Girl talk,” Jane said.
Adrian grinned and nodded, then looked off in the direction of the podium, where Mathilde stood in front of a microphone.
“I want to apologize,” Mathilde said. She divulged all the information she’d learned about the murder. “There’s no point in pussyfooting around. Security on the island is on red alert. Nobody is leaving and nobody is allowed to enter the island. For the time being, I’d appreciate it if you’d all stay close by. All indications are the person who killed Zooey was after her—and her alone. Your lives are probably not in any danger. But the police want you to stay as alert as possible—and as safe.”
Mathilde’s face reddened and splotchy patches surfaced. Cora felt for her. But she read between the lines and didn’t like the use of the word probably. Probably not in any danger. Probably.
So if the murder was personal . . . just what was Zooey involved in? And did Zooey know Marcy? thought Cora.
“Do you know if Zooey was acquainted with Marcy?” she asked Adrian.
“What?” Adrian said.
“Zooey, the woman who was killed. Was she familiar with Marcy?”
“Why are you asking?” Jane said.
“I’m wondering if the murders had anything to do with one another,” Cora said. “It’s odd, you know—two within the past few days, isn’t it?”
Adrian paled. “Uh.”
“What?”
“I think they did know each other,” he said. “I wanted to ask Zooey and I never got around to it.”
“What? What do you mean?” Cora said, the weight of her plate suddenly becoming too much. She sat it down on the edge of the nearest table.
“Well, the thing is,” Adrian said, “Zooey looked familiar to me, though her name didn’t ring a bell. But the other night I remembered that she reminded me of someone and wondered if it was her. I never got around to asking her.”
“Who was the person?” Jane said.
“Someone who used to work for Marcy. I think her name was Susan,” he said. “I feel like I should have recognized her right away and felt bad that I didn’t. But I’m pretty sure it was her.”
What? Zooey was a Susan? Cora felt her mouth drop open.
“What did she do for Marcy?” Jane asked.
Yes, Jane, ask questions. Cora stood with her mouth open trying to take this news in. Zooey, who had just been killed, had a secret identity. As she mulled that over, it sort of fit. But it was shocking to hear it.
“She was a research assistant,” he said. “Marcy, though a good writer, and a decent researcher, didn’t have time to do most of her own research. Her publishing schedule was so tight.”
“And so Zooey, the great macramé artist, was a researcher?” Jane said, smirking.
“Yeah, she was a struggling artist not so long ago,” Adrian said. “I mean, if it’s her.”
“What was her last name?” Cora asked. Her brain had finally caught up.
“I’m not sure I ever knew it,” he said.
“Of course,” Jane said, and rolled her eyes. “She will forever remain with no last name.”
“Of course,” Cora muttered. Her head was spinning—Zooey was Susan, who a few years ago had worked for Marcy Grimm. Now they were both dead. A stone cold dread came over her. Of course, their killings were connected. She surmised the only other person on the island who was familiar with this past was Adrian. Was he next on the killer’s list? She drew in air. Get a grip, Cora, she told herself. Adrian was here, next to her, and wasn’t going anywhere.
But Zooey or Susan or whoever the heck she was, was killed right here in this resort. So it didn’t matter that they stayed in. Cora wanted out of here. Out of the resort, off the island, and to Kildare House, Indigo Gap, and Luna, her cat. She wanted to be home.
Pangs of panic moved through her. First, her chest felt the pressure.
“I need to head back to my room,” she said.
“I’ll come with you,” Jane said.
“Me too,” Adrian said. “Are you okay?”
Suddenly, the room spun. Cora was not okay.
Adrian took one elbow, Jane the other, and they managed to escort her out of the room, past the retreaters, past the other teachers, past the group of police officers in the hallway, on to the elevator.
“Let’s relax, shall we?” Jane said as they entered the elevator.
“This is crazy,” Cora managed to say.
“What has got you so upset?” Adrian said.
“It doesn’t have to be any specific thing,” Jane said. “It’s just how she reacts to stress. Her body just takes over.”
Cold; Cora was so cold. They exited the elevator and made it to her room. She opened the door and fell into her bed.
Jane reached into Cora’s bag, found her pills, and handed her one, the way she had done so many times before.
Cora took it, with no argument.
“It will be a few minutes,” Jane said.
After some time, with Adrian and Jane sitting on either side of her on her bed, Cora’s mind stopped racing.
“I think it’s too strong of a coincidence. I think Marcy and Zooey were killed by the same person,” Cora said.
“That makes sense,” Adrian said. “But why? I mean, what were those two into?”
“The other thing I was thinking about, Adrian,” Cora said, “is that you are one of the few people, if not the only one, who knew that Zooey was Susan, right?”
He nodded. “Probably. Though I’m not sure it’s a secret or anything.”
“But it is,” Jane added. “Zooey was very well known in the crafting world. And I’ve never read anything about a name change or anything, even about her past.”
“You’re missing my point,” Cora said. “Adrian might be in danger.”
“What? Me?”
“Why not you? You knew them both. Knew of their past connection.”
“Yeah, but nothing sordid or seedy about the connection existed,” Adrian said. “I could see if they were hiding something that I might know about. But, nah, that’s the stuff of fiction.”
“Yes, I agree,” Jane said. “Cora’s imagination takes over sometimes. The only secret past is Zooey’s and it was a name change. Who wouldn’t rather be a Zooey than a Susan? She carefully constructed it all.”
Cora mulled that over a minute. “Well, maybe you’re both right. Maybe I need to let this all go, get through this weekend, and go home.”
“If they let us,” Jane said.
“If, indeed,” Adrian said, holding up his arm, with his tracking bracelet still clasped on his wrist.