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Around midnight, I finally crawled into bed and realized I hadn’t brought my iPhone, which doubled as my alarm clock. I padded back into the kitchen and got the phone out of my purse. As I was setting the alarm on it, I discovered a screenful of text messages I’d obviously missed during the Gallery Stroll.
Jen’s text made it clear I was in hot water: Stopped by. U R gone. WHERE ARE YOU? Call me!
I didn’t know she’d planned to stop by, and I hadn’t thought to look at my phone all evening. It had been turned off during the Gallery Stroll, and I’d been so busy that I hadn’t had time to check for messages earlier. Sheesh. Jen knew I was normally a weeknight couch potato, so I could see why she might have wondered where I was. But I was a grown woman. She needed to chill.
I headed into the kitchen and prepared a cup of chamomile tea before texting Jen to say that I was still up if she wanted to chat. I took a sip of tea and soon heard the familiar ringtone. I tapped the screen and braced for a lecture.
“You had me worried sick! Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be out late tonight? Where have you been?” Jen was pulling a late-nighter at the Trib and had taken a break earlier to stop by and chat. I thought she was going overboard on the worry, but I was eager to share my delicious news.
With my tea in hand, I walked back to my bedroom, fluffed a few pillows into place, and settled in for what I knew would be a nice long chat. “If you must know, Mom, I was in the company of a handsome new gentleman caller.”
Jen whistled. “Girrrrrl,” she teased, “you’ve been holding out on me.”
“Not exactly. I didn’t meet him until tonight. We were both in the Gallery Stroll and set up at Gail Ginn’s, and afterward we went to Sombrero for a bite to eat. I have to tell you, I had the best time. I can’t get over it. This happened so easily and so fast, it was like we’d been friends for years or something.”
“Hey, being friends is a great way to start.”
She was right on that point. After Todd had helped Jen buy her house, they’d kept in touch and were friends for months before they ever began dating.
“So tell me about him.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” I snuggled into the pillows and set my cup of tea on the bedside table. “He’s an artist. Oils. Paints gorgeous landscapes, lots of mountain views. But they’re unique, not the schmaltzy stuff like you see in some of the local souvenir shops that—”
“So what does he look like?” Jen asked.
I ignored her shallow question. “He’s thirty-three. Has a degree from the Savannah College of Art and Design. Used to do illustrations for a magazine, interestingly enough, so he understands the shift going on in publishing these days.”
“So is he a full-time artist, or does he have a day job?”
“He’s like me, self-employed. Unlike me, he already owns more than one home. He inherited some money from a grandfather and used it to buy real estate when he entered art school. That not only financed his education but also gave him the freedom to paint since he wasn’t depending on a day job to cover his mortgage.”
“Smart man,” Jen said. “So that’s good. Proves he’s not a slacker. And in today’s dating scene, that’s saying something.”
I laughed and took a sip of tea. “Can’t say I disagree with you there.”
“Now are you going to tell me what he looks like, or do I have to beat it out of you?”
“Okay, okay. He’s a good six inches taller than I am, sandy-blond hair, brown eyes, medium build. Likes to ride bikes. And yes, he’s definitely good-looking.”
“So is this Mr. Right?”
“Oh, good grief, Jen. Who knows? Let’s just say I find him terribly intriguing.”
“Intriguing, huh? That means you think he’s hot. I can’t wait to tell Todd. Listen, the scanner in here is going nuts, so there’s probably some car wreck or house fire that I need to check on. Keep me posted on how it goes with da Vinci, okay?”
And as usual, Jen hung up without saying goodbye.
* * *
WHEN MY ALARM WENT off at the usual seven o’clock on Friday morning, the first thing I did was down enough coffee to get my wits about me and plan my day. Even though I’d had terrific sales the night before, I couldn’t rest on my laurels. Friday was often a day I would hit garage sales, but that week, the local sales didn’t sound too promising. The garage sale previews on the Thrifty Shopper Facebook page had shown beer steins, old electronics, Coca-Cola memorabilia, and baby clothes, none of which would help me make jewelry. Instead of hitting the sales, I decided to hit the thrift stores for a bead-buying expedition.
After I showered, dressed, and fed Miriam, I headed to my car and set out on a mission to visit as many local thrift stores as I could squeeze in before lunchtime. The shops were some of my best sources for jewelry elements and inspiration. Thrift store beads could be taken apart and restrung. Occasionally, the perfect beads happened to be trimming the neckline of an old threadbare sweater. I didn’t mind taking apart an article of clothing in the service of a jeweled creation. As I drove, I made a mental note to purchase a few brown beads in addition to blue ones if I saw some good deals.
My first stop, on the west side of town, was a shop with a half-off sale in progress, which was probably a strategy to get rid of some overflow. I scored a bag of assorted beads for a dollar and, while I didn’t exactly need them, five paperback mysteries selling for a dime apiece.
The next thrift store on my list, one that benefited the local food pantry, was on the outskirts of downtown. They restocked every Friday, so perhaps they would have some new junk for sale.
As I pulled up, I spotted a familiar blue-green Prius parked near the front door. That looked like Gus’s car. Roseland didn’t have that many blue-green Priuses tooling around town.
Entering the shop, I scanned the small space and quickly spotted Gus, who was in a back corner of the store. Looking down, she quickly flipped through a stack of old pictures propped against a wall.
I quietly walked past a particleboard bookshelf displaying angel figurines, stopped a few feet from Gus, and cleared my throat. “Did you sell so many pieces last night that you’ve been forced to come here and restock?”
“What? Oh, Emma, it’s you.” Gus laughed. She stood and dusted off her hands on her wispy blue skirt. “Hey. Are you as relieved as I am to have that show behind us?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “I always work too much and too late on the nights before a new show, but I made a lot of sales, so there’s that. It sounded like you did pretty well over at the Foothills Gallery too, if the customer chatter I heard last night was any indication.”
Her eyes brightened. “Can you believe I actually sold three of my assemblages last night? That’s got to be a record for me.”
Gus’s work was pricey. I assumed three sales meant a very good night for her.
“I’m about to ransack the jewelry here.” I gestured toward the glass display case up front. “But I’ve got to ask why you’re so interested in all these hideous old pictures.”
Gus was clutching a cheap print of garishly colored fall trees and a crude still life of a bowl of fruit. She cocked her head. “I like to say beauty can be found in anything, but yeah, these are pretty gross.” She studied the fruit picture and shuddered in mock—or maybe not—disgust. “It’s actually the frames I’m interested in. I want to cover a frame in some of my found objects. Since the frame will be bearing a heavy load of industrial-strength glue and tchotchkes, it’s got to be a sturdy one. Some of these old frames will probably do the trick, and the price is certainly right.”
She focused on the sign reading Frames—$1.
“So you’re like me. You treat thrift stores as art supply stores.”
“You got it. Listen, Emma...” Gus seemed hesitant, which was out of character for her.
“Yes?”
“How’s your friend Carleen doing? Isn’t that her name? The lady Tina worked for?”
My heart sank. I’d been trying not to think about that this morning, but the murder remained very much on everyone’s minds. “Carleen’s doing well, but we’d all be doing much better if the killer were caught.”
Gus seemed sympathetic, and I realized she had just referred to Tina by name, as if she’d known her.
“Were you and Tina friends?”
Gus looked uncomfortable and set the two clunky pictures on the floor. “More like acquaintances. We both served on the library board. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but I’m sure she meant well.”
Thanks to Savannah, I knew what Gus and Tina had tangled over at the library, so I didn’t press Gus on that point.
“You didn’t happen to know any of her family, did you?” I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to learn more about the LeMann family if I could.
Gus shook her head. “Never heard her mention them. But then, we spent most of our time at the library talking about raising funds to purchase more books.” She examined the pictures on the floor and wiped some dust off the top of one of them. She seemed eager to change the subject. “You’re still looking for old beads, right?”
“Always.” I perked up. “Why?”
Gus’s eyes sparkled. “I hear that a new antique mall is opening over on the bypass next week, so that’ll be another place for us to check out.”
I nodded. “One of the vendors at Making Memories told me about it the other day. Word has it their rent is going to be more affordable.”
“Sounds like quite a few of the vendors are ready to leave Harriet’s place. Kind of sad, really. She loses her husband, and now she loses part of her business.”
“I assume you’re referring to rumors that the Harrises are divorcing?”
Gus confirmed that. “If they weren’t before, they sure are now. The latest rumor is that one of his little indiscretions got out of hand, and Harriet heard about it and hit the roof. Things got so bad, she made him leave this time.”
It didn’t surprise me that the old leech had finally gotten caught, but I was still sorry to hear that the rumors were true and that he and Harriet had indeed separated.
“Did you hear this from someone reliable?” I asked. “You know how the rumor mill in Roseland likes to work overtime.”
Gus nodded. “Heard it straight from their daughter. Well, overheard it straight from their daughter. She was at the Cupcake Café this morning with a friend. I was there typing up last night’s sales into a spreadsheet on my laptop and couldn’t help overhearing them as I worked.”
“This would be the younger daughter, the one named Holly?” I knew they had another daughter, Hannah, but I thought she lived out of town.
“Yes. She said something about her parents bickering and how she couldn’t wait until their divorce was final. She wants a little peace in her life. The other girl at the café seemed to be lending a sympathetic ear. Holly didn’t seem that upset about the news, now that I think about it.”
“Wow. I hate to hear that for Harriet’s sake, but I can’t say I’m shocked.” I felt guilty for prying, but the nosy former reporter in me liked to know what was going on in Roseland, especially when it regarded a man whose real estate listings included a home owned by a recently murdered woman.
So Harriet and Hubert are getting that divorce after all. Maybe that explains why Harriet was so hesitant about buying that bracelet she’d wanted at Carleen’s store. If she had been thinking about a divorce, maybe she was curbing her spending for a while.
“Emma?” Gus’s raised voice let me know I must have missed something.
“Yes?”
“Did I say something wrong? You seem... distracted.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “No, nothing’s wrong. I was only thinking about why the Harrises finally decided to get a divorce, but that’s really none of our business, is it?”
“As if that’s ever stopped us from making it our business,” Gus said with a wry grin.
“Listen, I guess I’ve wasted enough of your time this morning,” I said. “If you’re like me, you probably want to get home and recover from standing on your feet most of last night.”
Gus picked up the two frames she’d set aside and propped them under her arm. “A massage is definitely on my schedule for the afternoon. Guess I’ll see you at the next arts council meeting, then?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Once Gus left, I studied the jewelry in the glass display case up front and spotted a few 1970s-era necklaces with some interesting textured beads. I never knew which volunteer from the food pantry was going to be manning the cash register, but today’s volunteer was a chipper middle-aged woman who seemed eager to rack up a few sales.
“These are still a dollar each, right?” I asked.
“Honey, if you’ll take ten of ’em off our hands, I can let you have ’em for fifty cents each.”
Five bucks for ten beaded necklaces was cheaper than buying beads at the craft store.
“Deal.” I started plundering. Once I looked past the tarnished pendants and the gaudy plastic rhinestones, I realized some of the beads were quite striking. Metal, glass, ceramic—yes, they would work nicely. In my mind’s eye, I could see them mixed with vintage pearls and my handmade resin hearts.
Five well-spent dollars later, I left the thrift store and headed to the last one on my list. Along the way, I thought about Gus’s odd reaction when I’d asked about her relationship with Tina. She’d said they didn’t always see eye to eye. She hadn’t seemed angry about it, but she obviously hadn’t forgotten about her disagreement with Tina either.
I wished I knew why Gus seemed so uneasy around me lately. It was as if she thought I was investigating her.
Michele at the Feathered Nest used to serve on the library board, and she knew everything that went on in Roseland. Perhaps I needed to stop by sometime soon to see whether she could offer any insight on the ill will between Gus and Tina—the ill will that Gus had distinctly not wanted to discuss.