Chapter 46
Several minutes later, Cora and Jane found Cashel in the crowded resort restaurant.
“Missing?” Jane said.
“I’m not saying he’s missing. I’m saying I can’t find him,” Cashel clarified.
Cora’s chest felt as if one thousand elephants were pressing on it.
Jane’s arm went around her. “Do you have your medicine?”
Cora nodded, as Jane led her to a chair.
“Can I get you something?” A server came up to them.
“Water,” Jane said.
Cora closed her eyes, tried to breathe, but the pressing sensation in her chest was too much.
Cashel, across the table from her, shot Jane a quizzical glance.
“She’s having a panic attack,” Jane said. “She’ll be fine. Just give us a moment.”
Fine? Who was going to be fine? Thoughts rushed through Cora’s mind. She downed a whole pill. Adrian missing. Zooey/Susan dead. Poor Marcy, also dead. Newly married. Dead. And an ex-girlfriend of Adrian’s. Mathilde and Hank and all their fighting. Cashel drugged. What the heck was going on here?
“He can’t be missing,” Jane said in a soothing voice. “Let’s think about this. He has one of those bands on, right? If we can’t find him, we call the police and they will tell us where he is. They can track him.”
Cora’s chest lightened. She opened her eyes and looked at Jane’s soulful eyes, nodding. “You’re right.”
These damn panic attacks. They were not nearly as bad as when she lived in Pittsburgh. Then, it was almost every day. It had gotten so bad it damaged her heart. It left her with a weakness. Cora felt this attack slipping off. This one was quickly dealt with. Once she had had an attack that lasted two hours.
“I hate to call the cops,” Cashel said. “But we might have to.”
“Why don’t you want to call them?” Jane asked.
“I don’t want them to think he’s tried to escape,” Cashel said. “I don’t think he’d do that. And yet . . . I can’t find him.”
“Looks to me like he’s gone,” Mathilde said. She’d been standing there quietly, looking about as uncomfortable as a penguin in the jungle.
“How long should we wait?” Jane said. “I think it’s more likely that he’s in trouble than he escaped, given what happened to you.”
“What happened to you?” Mathilde said.
“I was drugged yesterday,” Cashel said. “After I had been doing some research into Adrian’s case.”
“Surely not,” Mathilde said, and paled.
“Yep,” Cashel said. “I’ve deduced that someone at the Drunken Mermaid slipped me a Mickey, as they say.”
“Mathilde, I realize you have a reputation to protect and a craft retreat to run, but if you know anything about who could have harmed Cashel or who might have Adrian, now is the time,” Jane said.
“Me? Why would I know anything? Believe me, the retreat has been a nightmare, yes, but it’s kept me incredibly busy. I don’t know anything,” Mathilde said.
“I saw that you are on the board of Adair,” Cashel said.
“Yes, that’s true,” she said. “But what does that have to do with anything? I’m for the new resort. It will bring hundreds of jobs to this island. I’ve made no bones about where I stand.”
She stood tall, shoulders slightly back, but her chin quivered. Her pink lipstick was fading. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
“I’d appreciate it if you sat down and told us what’s going on,” Cashel said. “We’ve got several lives hanging in the balance. Two women are dead. We need to find some justice here.”
She heaved a deep sigh and sat down. “What do you want to learn? Besides the tension on the island about the resort, I don’t know of anything I can add.”
“And it’s been decided it won’t go forward, correct?” Cashel said, his piercing blue eyes lit up.
“That’s not been made public yet,” Mathilde said.
“Why not?” Jane asked.
“I asked that they wait until after the retreat to make the announcement. I didn’t want anything to take away from the retreat,” she said, and guffawed. “I wasn’t expecting not just one but two murders.”
Cora chilled. What would she do if this happened at one of her retreats? She felt for Mathilde. Even though she didn’t understand a lot of her attitude about things, she understood how the woman was trying to protect the successful retreat she had built from the ground up.
“This retreat is my whole life,” Mathilde said. “I’ve been accused of being a money-hungry monster on more than one occasion. But this retreat makes the island thousands in revenue. I love the island. I love the retreat. And money is central to its success. As is crafting. I see women leave here feeling empowered through crafting. Rested. More energized. It’s a win-win situation for everybody.”
On Cora’s imaginary checklist of suspects, she crossed Mathilde off. She was trying to make tough decisions. Cora could relate. Though she was not as brash as Mathilde and preferred to manage in a different way, Cora realized they ultimately wanted the same thing.
“Who would have tried to drug Cashel, if not you, for finding out about this?” Jane leveled.
“Oh, my dear,” Mathilde said, flashing her eyes. “I could come up with a list of about a million people. But the question is, who knew what Cashel was doing that day? Who knew he was at the courthouse and library and knew what he was researching?”
“That narrows it down from a million, I’m sure,” Cashel said wryly.
“Let’s give that some thought,” Mathilde said.
“In the meantime, where is Adrian? Can we please give that some thought, as well?” Cora said.