Chapter 3

Cora reached for her tapestry handbag, her keys, and a scarf. She needed to get to the police station, and fast. Poor Zee! Cora knew she didn’t kill Stan. What was going on? Why would they even bother questioning her?

What an odd town Indigo Gap, North Carolina, is, she thought. She’d been here a little over a year, and this was the third murder. Murder? Surely not. Surely Zee must be mistaken. Who would kill a director at the theater on opening night? Zee must be upset and confused.

With a new mission to get to the bottom of this mess before her crafters arrived, Cora wrapped a scarf around her neck, took a quick look at herself in the mirror, and opened the door.

A woman wearing purple eyeglasses and a wrinkled brown velour tracksuit stood smiling at her. Short, round, with a pleasant smile, she extended her hand.

“Hello,” she said, “I’m Roni.”

“Oh! Roni!” Cora said. “Please come in!”

“Thank you,” she said, dragging her roller suitcase behind her. It thudded on the chestnut floors, and the wheels made a whirring noise as they spun along. She stopped and gasped as she took in the house. “What a gorgeous place!”

Cora beamed. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”

Roni stood back from the staircase in awe. “Look at that. The woodwork is astounding!” she said.

Cora reacted the same way when she first walked into the place. They didn’t build staircases like this anymore, with such exquisite attention to detail on the bannister and the stairs.

“And the floors!”

“Yes,” Cora said, wondering if she was ever going to get out of here now that a guest arrived. “The house was built in the 1800s, by an Irish immigrant family.”

“They must have done pretty well for themselves,” Roni said with her eyes wide.

“Yes, I’d say so,” Cora replied. “Would you like me to show you around?” She was too polite not to ask, but she hoped Roni would say no.

“Would I?” Roni clutched her ample chest. “Yes!”

“You can leave your bag there. I’ll just take you quickly around the place,” Cora said, and smiled. She loved the reaction of people when they came to Kildare House. It was a work of art, and she was still managing to find new things to love about it every day. Even the creaky floors. She felt as if each nook and cranny held history, memories, and stories; each window held dreams.

She hated to rush Roni along, but Zee was at the police station, thinking she was a suspect for murder. She must be mistaken. Zee must be confused and in shock.

“How lovely. Did you decorate the place yourself?” Roni said. “I love the way you’ve incorporated handmade crafts and goods. Is that a Moroccan tile table?”

“Yes, it was a gift,” Cora said. “In fact, most of the décor is handmade items from friends and old clients.”

There were colorful hand-loomed rugs, macramé and hand-woven wall hangings, knitted and crocheted throws and pillows. Paintings and clay work. All of it a testament to the art of crafting.

“Through here is the dining room,” Cora said, leading her through the French doors into the next room.

“I just love the old built-ins,” Roni said.

“Yes,” Cora said. “Me too. Through there is the craft wing. You’ll be spending a lot of time there.”

Cora hoped Roni wouldn’t insist on going in—and she didn’t. Cora wanted to visit Zee. But Kildare House was her business. And more than that, it would be impolite just to leave her guest to wander through the house when she had just arrived.

“We have several craft-themed rooms,” Cora went on, and Roni followed through the hallway. She pointed to the paper-crafting room. “You can do any crafting here you want. There’s the paper-crafting room. And over here is the fiber arts room. We have a mini-loom inside. Do you weave?”

“Heavens no,” she said. “I design jewelry. I’m all about jewelry. I guess I wouldn’t mind some of this other stuff, but I’m here to learn about beads. I’ve tried to get to some of her other retreats and classes, and my schedule didn’t allow for it.”

“Oh,” Cora said. “I’m so glad you could make it. Which room did you reserve? Do you remember?”

“The Brigid Room,” she said. “I remember reading about St. Brigid and the goddess Brigid and thought it would be fun to stay in there.”

“Brigid is our patron goddess or saint if you will,” Cora said. “Follow me.” She led Roni up the first flight of stairs and stopped at the landing. Cora loved to show off the stained glass window here.

“Is that her? Is that Brigid?”

“Yes, it is,” Cora said. “Now, your room has several Brigid items in it. Some statues that Jane Starr made, some prints, and so on. I hope you like it.”

Cora continued up the second flight of stairs. The third step always creaked. “The family who built this house were from Kildare, Ireland. There is a small St. Brigid church there. It was built on top of a pagan site for Brigid, the goddess of Irish myth. I read that archeologists have unearthed a fire pit and other parts of the ancient temple.”

“Fascinating,” Roni said. “So the family named their house after their hometown and have a stained glass window of the town saint. That’s just way too cool!”

Cora found herself enjoying showing Roni around. Her reaction to everything was almost childlike. Evidently, this retreat was a true treat for her. She’d seemingly never been in a house like this before. Then again, who had? Houses with such detailed craftsmanship were no longer being built and unless you inherited one, you didn’t get a chance to live in it. They were much too high in price for most people to buy.

Cora and Jane had pooled their resources and now had investors in the business as well. Cora lived in the attic and when the retreat was not in-house, closed up the rest of the place, helping to save on the energy bills.

She remembered a conversation with Zee about the energy expense in old homes and Cora’s solution. Zee wished she could do the same for her B&B, but her establishment always had at least one guest, so closing up a part of the house was not feasible.

Zee! Her sobs over the phone echoed in Cora’s mind and tugged at her as she settled her new guest into her room.

“I’ve got a few errands to run,” she said. “Please make yourself at home. There’s coffee and drinks downstairs in the fridge. And Indigo Gap is full of places to eat. I can recommend any of them.”

“Oh, sugar,” Roni said. “I’m just going to rest awhile.” She sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off her clogs. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“Okay, well, I won’t be gone long,” Cora said.

At least she hoped she wouldn’t be gone long. Who knew what this mess was all about? It was madness. Why would someone suspect Zee of murder?

Cora needed to find out—fast.