Strung Out to Die Page 5

  This wasn’t a shock. Over the past couple of years, I’d noticed how Agnes’ appearance wasn’t as “put together” as it used to be.

  The Sloans were the wealthiest family in Swanee, but Agnes was the wealthiest widow. She always wore strands of necklaces that started around her neck and finished below her boobs. Her long flowing dresses swept the floor, creating a swooshing sound every time she glided into a room. And boy, did she glide. Agnes Pearl had more elegance in her pinky finger than the rest of the citizens of Swanee put together.

  As the years passed, and she had gotten older, Agnes’ hair began to thin. She’d invested in all sorts of jeweled turbans. Her purple one, with a big red feather sticking out from a jewel on the front, was by far her favorite.

  I placed a bead board in front of every empty chair at the two beading tables I had reserved for the class.

  “Why do you think Agnes is going blind?” I asked, really glad that Marlene didn’t want to talk about Doug. I was tired of talking and hearing about it, even though I did want to find out why someone killed him in my shop, and who the killer was. I eyed her suspiciously.

  She was awfully calm if she was the killer.

  Marlene tapped the counter with her hot pink acrylic nails and chomped her gum as if she was thinking up a good reason for my question.

  “Well?” I asked again, wanting to know the answer. Was Marlene trying to put the wealthiest woman in Swanee in a nursing home? Was Agnes her next victim?

  My faith in Marlene was waning.

  I walked over to the supply wall and picked out ten pair of pliers and ten crimpers from the tool baskets.

  These would do. There were so many tools that I could teach the students to use, but today was the easiest day of class. Using the two most basic tools was the obvious choice to start with.

  The pliers were good for holding the wire steady when you finished the bracelet, while the crimpers would secure the bracelet closure with a simple silver crimp tube.

  Luckily, today’s was a basic lesson on stringing beads and crimping on a closure. Easy.

  “This morning she was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while I was paying her bills online. Pretty simple, right? No, not for Agnes.” Marlene leaned across the freshly cleaned counter with her elbows planted on the glass. I could see the small humidity clouds forming around her wrinkled skin. “She asked me if I wanted one. How hard is it to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

  She grabbed her purse and put it under the counter, out of the way.

  “Not too hard.” I shrugged, and tried not to make it obvious that I was watching her every single move.

  I put pliers and crimpers on each of the bead boards. I wanted to have all the supplies out and ready when they got there.

  As simple as the basic bracelet was, it would take me the full hour to go around and check everyone, correct everyone, and even just do the task for some of the students. I had to be fully prepared.

  “It was hard. The jelly is in the refrigerator next to the hot salsa.” Marlene stood back up and wiped the counter again. “She thought the salsa was the jelly. I took a big bite and nearly fell off the computer chair. I gagged all the way to the bathroom.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It certainly wasn’t funny that Agnes’ health was declining, but I’d have given anything to see Marlene take a chomp of a peanut butter and salsa sandwich. Secretly, I wondered if Agnes hadn’t done it on purpose. That was something Agnes would do.

  “Agnes didn’t even notice the smell when she opened the jar?” She put her purse back on the counter and unzipped it. “No. As a matter of fact, she ate her entire sandwich and mine!” Marlene’s eyes were as big as saucers and batting her fake lashes made them look even bigger. “I told her that we needed to call the doctor about getting her eyes examined.”

  She pulled out a bag of fudge, and held it toward me.

  “No thanks.” I gulped.

  She popped a piece in her mouth, along with her gum, and then put the cleaner in the cabinet behind the counter. She crossed it off her to-do list. She doesn’t work every day, but on bead class days it was nice to have someone to help out so I could give my undivided attention to the beaders.

  Most of the time, Marlene was would work on her wrapping technique, so she could wrap her fancy yellow diamond Spinel into a piece she could wear on a chain. Or, at least that’s what she told me. It was something she didn’t tell any of the other Divas, including Agnes.

  “At least she has you.” I was skeptical of Marlene at first, but not as much as Ginger. Ginger didn’t hide the fact that she didn’t trust Marlene. Now I’m not so sure Ginger wasn’t right.

  “I’m happy to help her.” Marlene opened one of the new inventory boxes I left out for her to stock. She sat the xacto-knife on the table, next to the box.

  If I had to, I could probably grab it before she could get to it.

  Stop it, I said over and over in my head. Surely, if Marlene had killed Doug, she’d been long gone by now. There really was nothing keeping her here in Swanee, but that didn’t mean I was marking her off my list.

  Putting the idea of Marlene as the killer aside, I helped her unpack a little bit of the boxes. There was nothing more exciting than opening up a new box of inventory. All the new designs always got my blood pumping. Opening my own lapidary fed my addiction.

  I put handfuls of mismatched beads on each bead board. The students could pick out what they liked from the pile. The bracelets they made today would be nothing like the big project they would have completed by the time the four-week course was over.

  “Oh, that’s neat,” Marlene gasped, holding up a small plastic bag of tied-dyed-looking glass beads.

  “Those are Chevron Beads.” I took one of the packages out of the box and opened it.

  These beads always made me smile. The swirling colors blended so nicely, creating a tie-dyed look. These were especially popular with teenagers. The kids loved to string these, making necklaces, or even putting 8mm sterling silver beads between them. These beads can be worn with anything to complete an outfit.

  I put them back and went to get a spool of Accu-Flex wiring for each of the students. There were so many wires used for beading, but I had found that this particular brand of wire held its shape and didn’t wear out. If you use cheap wire, the bracelet will break after only a couple days of wearing it. That was not the quality of work or image I wanted The Beaded Dragonfly to be known for.

  “These are cool too.” Marlene emptied out another bag of beads into the palm of her hand.

  “Those are glass components.” I picked up a heart-shaped one and held it up to the light. They really do add a touch of class to any bracelet with their sparkle and shine.

  I usually suggest using only one component per bracelet, because they’re a little pricey.

  A knock at the door caused us both to look up. There were a couple of women waiting outside. The older of the two was tapping her watch. It was past ten a.m. and time to open.

  I was happy to see that the customers hadn’t been scared off because of dead Doug.

  “Let’s get to work,” I hollered over my shoulder before I opened the door, and turned the sign around from closed to open.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Marlene chomped, but she didn’t take her eyes or hands out of the box.

  Chapter Seven

  “Good afternoon. Welcome to the Beaded Dragonfly.” I held the door so the waiting customers could come in. “Can I help you find something?”

  “No, thank you.” The young girl smiled and pointed over to the counter. The older woman, who I presumed was the mother, didn’t look as anxious. If I wasn’t mistaken or paranoid, I’d think she was giving me the onceover.

  “If you need anything, please let me know.” Was I being paranoid? Did everyone in Swanee really suspect that I was the killer?

  I eyed the woman back by giving her a friendly smile that wasn’t returned on her end. She didn’t look like a jewelry b
eader, but the young one might be, but they went to the counter, which gave a good inclination that they were here to buy.

  I was always curious to see who was a beader and who was buyer. They were two completely different kinds of clients. I loved showing people how to bead, but loved the buyer even more. The most lucrative part of owning my own bead shop was designing jewelry for people.

  When I first opened the shop, I had a grand vision that women would flock to me to design their next cocktail party necklace, or bead themselves a really cool watch. It had turned out that people wanted to learn how to make their own.

  “Oh, look at these!” Marlene continued to inspect every new bead in the box, interrupting me.

  The younger customer hurried over to Marlene to see what all the fuss was about, her high, brown ponytail whipped around in circles as she trotted over to eye the beads.

  “Oh, Momma!” the girl gasped, her big brown doe-eyes growing wide. “These are perfect.”

  “Of course they are, dear.” The momma leaned my way and her voice dripped with a sarcastic tone. “Everything is perfect in her mind.”

  The young woman had good taste. The foil-lined glass beads were very popular with brides-to-be, and judging by that chunk of diamond on her ring finger, she was definitely about to walk down the aisle.

  I walked over to get Marlene’s hands out of the box, so she could finish her to-do list.

  “Let me help you with that.” I took the new inventory box and sat it behind the counter. “Are you looking for something special?”

  Marlene grabbed the box back. She knew she needed to check off the inventory before it could be put out to stock. Most mornings we had time to do that, but not today.

  Marlene tiptoed over Doug’s spot. She did a little shimmy, almost tipping the beads out of the box.

  “Just creeps me out.” She held the box with one hand, and circled her free hand over Doug’s spot.

  I could just see those amazing new beads spilling out and finding a home in The Under. That was something I couldn’t afford today. I gave her the look to shut her up. I might have found a bride client, and I couldn’t afford to lose her. In the back of my mind, I had to wonder if Marlene was trying to sabotage my appointment.

  “I’m sorry.” I turned my attention back to my bride, er, customer.

  “I am looking for something really special.” She beamed, and wiggled spirit fingers in front of my face. “I need at least sixteen matching bridesmaid necklaces, earrings, and bracelets.”

  “I think we should not be hasty, Margaret.” The mom patted her daughter’s hand.

  “Oh! You’re Margaret McGee.” I had heard her name from Ginger quite a few times since Margaret’s father, Bear McGee, was the Sloan’s lawyer. I had voted for him as the city attorney. I didn’t know them personally. Come to think of it, I bet Ginger threw the business my way.

  I laid the photo album with pictures of my designs in front of them. I had taken pictures of other items I had designed and made for myself over the years and put them in an album for customers just like Margaret to look at.

  A couple more customers came in. I left Margaret and her mom to check it out while I walked over to the others.

  “Welcome. Are you here for the beginning beading class?” I asked.

  I noticed that they were hanging around the beading tables that I had set up for the class.

  I pulled out a couple of the chairs so they could sit down. “Go ahead and get comfortable. We’re waiting on a few others.”

  I walked back over to Margaret and her mom. “Take your time. I’m going to get some refreshments out of the back for my beading class, so yell if you have any questions.”

  “Beading class?” Margaret clapped her hands together; her high-ponytail flopped to the side. “Momma!”

  Momma had better watch her alignment, I thought as Margaret grabbed her momma’s hand and dragged her over to the beading tables.

  “Remember why we are here.” Momma stopped dead in her tracks, reeling in Margaret. “Ms. Harper, we aren’t sure if working with you is a good idea, and I told Margaret that we needed to come in here and see what type of establishment The Beaded Dragonfly is.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m a bit confused.” I tilted my head, squinting my eyes, and trying to figure out what she meant by “type of establishment.”

  “You know the murder and all.” She covered her mouth with the back of her hand so no one would hear.

  But the whole town already knew about it.

  “Momma!” Margaret gasped. “Where are your manners?”

  “Margaret, you know we can’t be associated with any type of criminal activity. Daddy wouldn’t approve.” Momma looked me up and down. “I guess it seems like you’re on the up and up. Plus, you don’t really look like you could murder someone.”

  I really wanted to whack her, but I needed this job. I needed the income from sixteen sets of bridesmaids’ accessories, so I just bit my lip.

  “I can assure you I am on the up and up. I will design and make the most beautiful accessories you’ve ever seen for a bridal party.” I hated to beg, but I would have gotten on my knees if I’d needed too.

  “Fine. We will give you a shot.” Momma sat down next to Margaret.

  “I’m so embarrassed.” Margaret flipped her ponytail.

  I smiled. It looked like Margaret and her momma were attending the class.

  I grabbed a couple more bead boards, and Marlene put the cookies and fruit punch out on the counter. Within ten minutes, all the beaders were there, including Margaret and her momma.

  After some small talk and a few refreshments, it was time to start class. The first beading class was always a lot of repetition.

  “Hi, thank you all for signing up.” I greeted them with a smile and made eye contact with each of them. I didn’t want them to think I was hiding anything about the murder. “Not to make light of the situation, but I was afraid that no one was going to show up because of what happened here.”

  I didn’t want to ignore what had happened. No matter how you looked at it, finding a dead guy in your shop couldn’t be good for business.

  “Over the next four weeks of classes, we will be making a simple beaded bracelet, earrings, and a necklace.” All of these were quite simple and added a little difficulty as they progressed to each new accessory. “Today, we are going to learn the basic tools, and how to make a basic bracelet.”

  I brought out a single-strand glass bead bracelet I had made as an example to pass around to my beginner classes. Seeing examples always helped me when I started beading my own jewelry.

  We went through each tool and its purpose. I asked them to use their piles of beads to lay out a design. Each one of them took the time to consider carefully where to place each bead.

  Some of them wanted to use fancier beads, but I always saved those for the more advanced classes.

  I repeated the process several times, teaching them the proper technique for measuring their wrists. It was hard for them to understand that they had to add an inch to the length, because they had to leave enough space for the crimp and toggle closure. Plus, a little extra wiggle room never hurt anyone.

  After they were finished designing their bracelets, I introduced the Accu-Flex wire they would be using to string the beads. Accu-Flex is a great wire that is flexible and sturdy enough that the bracelet can be worn every day. I showed them the bead hole size, and how it compared to the 8 gauge wire I was using.

  “I had no idea you had to keep wire size in mind.” Zelma, Margaret’s momma, fingered the spool of wire, taking a closer look.

  For a split second, I wondered why the murderer hadn’t used wire to strangle Doug. He or she had actually used the cat eyes that were threaded on wool yarn. That meant that the murderer had to be really strong.

  Learning how to crimp one side of the closure proved to be a little difficult for most of the class. It was hard to hold the wire, put the crimp bead on, add the toggle closure, and d
ouble the wire over into the crimp bead before you used the crimp tool to finish it off.

  “I don’t understand why we can’t just string them and then put the closure on.” Flora had her phone pinned between her ear and shoulder while trying to hold up the wire and string the beads.

  “It’s much easier for you to string the beads with one end finished.” I showed them what I meant by using a bracelet I was working on as an example. “The beads won’t fall off, and it’s easier to complete.”

  Each student was at a different skill level. Flora wasn’t making any progress, but she did make progress in her phone conversation as she cackled to the person on the other end. I had to hush her a few times.

  Margaret was the student who surprised me the most. She was a perfect crimper. It had taken me several tries to get that good of a double fold when I was starting out. Zelma wasn’t doing as well.

  Every time Zelma pushed her reading glasses up on her nose, she would let go of the open end of her bracelet. She lost several beads to The Under. I was glad I had given them the handful of mismatched beads instead of the more expensive ones.

  I glanced over at Marlene, who was working the counter as other customers came in. She had Tigertail beading wire wrapped around her pointer finger. She had been working hard on the wrapping technique so she could wrap her yellow Spinel. I had suggested she continue to practice on her finger or other glass beads the size of the Spinel. If she perfected the technique, it would lessen her chances of scratching the precious gem when it was time to wrap it.

  She wrapped, unwrapped, and then wrapped again. It was a nice tight fit. Images of the cat eye strand around Doug’s neck popped into my head. I shook it off and went back to the group of students.

  Everyone put the finishing touches on their bracelets.

  “If you wouldn’t mind cleaning up your clippings and putting them in the trash, that would be great.” I pointed to the trashcans. “And if you don’t mind putting your tools away, hang onto your bead boards along with your beads and wire. I have a spot in the storage room for you all to store your projects.”