Chapter 29
“Zora Steele,” Annie said. “Steele is her maiden name. Mancini is her married name.” The blue light of Annie’s laptop shined on her face. They were all in the guest room Annie and Vera were sharing. Doubling up on the rooms was cheaper for the crafters and less work for Cora.
Annie scrolled down a list of items and Cora looked over her shoulder: marriage, divorce, birth certificate, bio. Annie clicked on bio. The four of them read over it in astonishment.
Zee had not one but two Grammy Awards! She won “Best Female Jazz Vocalist” in 1968 and then again in 1970.
“Did you know that?” Annie asked.
“No, did you, Jane?”
“Nope.”
“Well, we learned something, then,” Vera said. “But is it relevant?”
“Probably not,” Annie said. “Obviously, she’s put the professional music world behind her.”
“To me, that’s curious,” Vera said. “I mean why work that hard to be a professional musician, even getting awards, then walk away?”
“You were a professional dancer and walked away,” Annie said after a few moments.
“Yes, but dance is different. As a dancer, you’ve got limited stage time. That’s not so with musicians. And I was so in love ... it just wasn’t working out in my life. Being married to someone who worked different hours than me, it was hard on the relationship.”
“Maybe something similar happened with Zee. She married and moved here,” Cora pointed out. “She married a wealthy, influential man, who may be complicating the situation.”
Annie scrolled through several more lists as the others were talking. “I don’t see anything else noteworthy.”
Cora stifled a yawn. It was getting late. “Let’s research Stanley Herald and then call it a night.”
“Agreed,” Annie said, with her long fingers moving over the keys.
She could talk and type. At the same time. Impressive.
Jane and Cora were the only two in the room aware of the scarf. After all, Annie and Vera were guests, and they had decided not to alarm them until they knew for sure there was a reason.
“Stanley is a bit more complicated. Degree from UNC. Owns a dry-cleaning business.”
Jane nodded. “Yes, that’s our guy. Has a master’s in the theater and earns a good living.”
“Okay,” Annie said. “He’s also been divorced ... twice. No kids.”
“He doesn’t have a criminal record,” Annie went on.
“Doesn’t mean he was a good guy. Just means he never got caught at anything,” Cora said.
“You really didn’t care for him,” Jane said.
“No, I guess I didn’t,” Cora said. It was hard for her to admit she didn’t like someone. Intellectually, she believed everybody deserved a chance. She didn’t like Stan almost from the first. He had an overblown self-importance thing going on.
“He wasn’t my favorite person either, but he volunteered countless hours at that theater. You could view it as a service to the community. He was an expert giving his time,” Jane said.
“But what he was doing was backhanded. On the one hand, yes, he gave plenty of time to the theater. On the other hand, the only people who got parts were his friends and people who gave money to the theater.”
“That seems to be the case with these small-town theaters,” Vera said, waving her hand. “I never get involved. Some of my dance students have.”
“Well, they do need money, and responsible people that they know are going to show up,” Jane said.
The women looked at her.
“I’m just playing devil’s advocate,” she said.
“You make a good point,” Annie said. “I’m getting a sense of his character from you two. A big fish in a little pond. Maybe he was a narcissist. Guys such as him think they can get away with anything. Affairs. Drugs. Maybe there was more to him than what you know. I’ve seen this character type in my work time and time again.”
“Me too,” Cora muttered. “Only I used to see them sitting across a table in a domestic courtroom, usually after years of abusing their wives.”
“Or cheating on them,” Vera said, her full lips forming a line as her jaw clenched.
Best to leave that story for another time, Cora decided.
* * *
Jane made her way from Kildare House to her place through the backyard. The night was chilly, and the moon almost full and so bright that it lit her path. She opened the door to her carriage house. She took one walk around the studio before heading upstairs to bed.
Tomorrow, first thing, she’d be teaching a clay beading class. She and Ruby had put their heads together to mix it up a bit. They planned to use herbs and clay.
The buckets of clay were already lined up nicely on the long tables. The bins of herbs and dried blossoms sat next to them. The rest of the tools they’d need were already in their kits. Her teaching studio was coming along nicely. In the back of it was a corner that was her studio—where she created her pottery. This life was good.
She walked up the stairs and opened the door to her apartment, quiet and empty without London. A pang of missing her girl tore through her. It was too late to call her. They had texted earlier in the evening. London was having the time of her life, and she was well tended. Jane told herself to focus on the positive, not on the dark, crushing sensation of loneliness without her daughter.
Her cell phone blared.
“Hey,” she said. It was Cora.
“I forgot to ask if you are all set for the morning. Do you need help?”
“I’m all set,” Jane said, as she plopped onto her couch.
“How about that Annie and Vera?”
“Very helpful.” Jane yawned.
“I have the names of Stan’s ex-wives, and I’m going to look them up tonight.”
“Why?”
“It might help to clear Zee.”
“Yes, but you and I both know that the police are working on this. Brodsky is testing the scarf. I’m betting it’s Stan’s blood.”
“Then you think his killer is here? In Kildare House?”
“I don’t know if the killer is in the house or if they just got rid of the scarf somehow. I’ve got a feeling that scarf is going to be a turning point in the case.”
“I hope he’s able to place a real rush on it.”
“Well, this is an ongoing murder investigation. I’m betting they will work around the clock.”
Cora exhaled into the phone. “You’re probably right. I just can’t imagine that any of these women had anything to do with it.”
“Not even Roni? She was here early.”
“I can’t imagine,” Cora said. “People certainly do surprise me all the time.”
“Even after all these years?” Jane said, laughing. “You amaze me, Cora. You’re so optimistic, yet you’ve seen and dealt with some of the worst people.”
“Yes, but also some of the best,” she said after a few beats.
That was such a typical Cora statement, Jane mused.
“Hey, have you heard back from your artist trading card friend?” Cora said.
“Not yet. I’m expecting a card any day. This is so much fun,” Jane said, knowing Cora was poking around for more information. She and Ellis had been exchanging cards for a while. His designs were great, and they were having fun getting to know each other through the mail.
“I was telling a few of our guests about the whole artist trading card thing you’ve got going on,” Cora said. “They may ask you about it.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Jane said, glancing at her coffee table where earlier she’d lined up all of his cards. “Maybe I’ll bring them to class tomorrow.”
“Hey, that’s a great idea,” Cora said.
“Good night, Cora,” Jane said.
“Catch you in the morning,” she replied.
Jane contemplated what they had learned about both Zee and Stan. Couldn’t the police see that she didn’t have any motive to kill him?
Or did she? The thought zoomed through her mind. Was Zora one of the many women he’d had affairs with? Why would she involve herself with the local theater? She had won Grammys. Did she get involved because of him? Were they having an affair?
Jane laughed. “I must be getting goofy from being so tired.”
She heaved herself off the couch and prepared for bed.
Morning came too quickly, along with a phone call from London.
“Good morning, Mama!”
Jane struggled to open her eyes. “Good morning, London. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re getting ice cream.”
“This early in the morning?”
“No, silly. After dinner.” London giggled. “Are you still sleeping, Mommy?”
“Yes, but I need to get up. I’m teaching the first class.”
“We’re going to ride horses,” she said.
Jane sat up and untangled herself from her duvet. “That sounds like fun.”
“Horses are so pretty,” London said.
“Be careful, okay? Follow the instructions.” The thought of London riding a horse filled her with a mix of emotions, torn between being thrilled her daughter was experiencing a new thing and being scared to death. Horses were gorgeous, but they were also dangerous. She’d been called overprotective, but she would never apologize for that.
“I will, Mama,” London said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Jane said.
After they hung up the phone, Jane readied herself for the day—but only after she had a good cry, missing her daughter.