A Bead in the Hand (Glass Bead Mystery Series Book 2) (20 page)

“Let me see, what do we have here?” I tapped on a file called “Medical Examiner’s Report.”

Subject, female 59 years old, history of heart arrhythmia, cause of death cardiac arrest subsequent to electrocution. A single oval 1.5 inch by 2.5 inch contusion with charring indicative of high voltage contact at L4, base of spine. Additional insubstantial contusions and abrasions, seventeen mirror fragments ranging in size from .25 to 1.5 inches, superficial, excised posterior aspect of cranium and trunk…

I also found the medical examiner’s report for Carl Shulman.

Subject, male, 48 years old, cause of death, blunt force trauma, distinctly square contusion measuring 1 inch by 1 inch, anterior aspect of cranium…

“I think she’s coming, we’ve got to stop,” said Val.

“Just one more thing here I want to see,” I said, as I took a quick peek at a page called “Reports from Security Guard Ryan Shaw.”

Val grabbed the iPad, pressed the lock icon, wiped off our fingerprints with the edge of her sweater and slid the tablet back across the table.

The iPad skidded to a halt, just as Tiffany returned to the room. “Sorry, ladies, I’ve got to dash.” Tiffany looked down at us, as we sat there looking like two innocent school girls. She grabbed the iPad and was gone in a flash.

“Thanks. You saved me.”

“That’s right. I saved you. You and me, Jax. Not you and
Tiffany
.”

“You don’t like her? I thought you’d be the best of friends. You’re so, so…”

“What? Don’t say we’re the same, because we
are not
anything at all alike.”

“Really? Because it seems to me that you have a lot in common. You like the same clothes, the same nail polish, the same—”

“Look, you told me this more than once. You have to look past what’s on the outside and look at what’s on the inside.” I told her this when I was giving her advice on choosing a boyfriend—that she should look for one who isn’t just pretty packaging.

“I said that. And you went out and found Rudy, the ugliest, meanest-looking guy I’ve ever met.”

“Who, first, is not my boyfriend, as I have tried to point out to you more than once. And, second, looks fantastic after I fixed him up.”

“All true,” I agreed. Rudy was a gruff painting contractor we met a few months back who had transformed into a good-looking man, thanks to Val. He turned out to be a nice guy as well.

“Tiffany and I may look the same on the outside, but on the inside, she is a snake in the grass. Not to be trusted.”

I wanted to trust Tiffany—trust that she wouldn’t haul me away to jail on suspicion of murder or for obstructing her investigation.

“She’s just a little different than I’d expect a detective to be, starting with the name Tiffany. But how could her parents have known she was going to be a homicide detective when she grew up?”

“Seriously, Jax, I grew up around girls like her, back when I did beauty pageants—”

“You competed in pageants?”

“Of course I did. I grew up on a farm in Iowa—I was Miss Junior Pork Chop Queen. I got to be in a parade on the Fourth of July, sitting on a float, waving to my adoring fans. They made me a scepter out of a livestock prod,” Val said, reminiscing. “I learned to love hairstyling during those pageants. I can tell you, girls like her, they’re all nice to your face, but behind your back, you can’t trust them.”

“Livestock prod? Like a cattle prod?”

“I told you this whole story about me being a queen, and the float, and the adoring fans, and all you can say to me is ‘livestock prod’?”

“Did you ever use a cattle prod? Could you kill someone with one?” I asked.

“Probably not. My uncle Herbie used to zap Herbie Jr. with one.”

“Why did he do that?”

“I think Herbie was a family name,” Val replied, missing my point.

“No, I mean, why did he zap his son?”

“Oh, just for fun.”

“For fun—seriously?”

“It never seemed to hurt Herbie Jr. that much. He was never really right in the head, but Herbie Sr. wasn’t either. It ran in the family, I guess. Herbie Jr. was strong and healthy. But, Jax! Saundra had that lack-of-rhythm thing in her heart, right?”

“Arrhythmia. If she had a heart problem, then I wonder if a cattle prod could have killed her,” I said. “That’s what it seems like the coroner was saying.”

“It really could be true,” agreed Val. “What now? Do you have another mission for me?”

“Why don’t you go up to the room? Maybe you can check on Gumdrop,” I said.

“You’re right. He might be lonely.” Gummie did not get lonely, but it was a good idea for someone to check on him, since he was in unfamiliar territory.

“I’m going to go back to my table. I’m sure I’ve left Tessa alone too long,” I said.

I found Tessa where I’d left her, sitting at my booth. The crowds had thinned, and Tessa was staring off into space.

“Hey, there. Did you make me a million dollars selling beads this afternoon?”

“No.”

“Half a million?”

“Sorry. No.” Tessa was not in a happy place.

“Is this because I left you at the booth for so long, or because chaos continues at your house, or because you’re hungry?”

“All of the above.”

“Cheer up, Tessa, because today is almost over, and then we can have some drinks, and dinner, and then more drinks.”

“What did you learn on your adventure with Val?” Tessa asked.

“I learned that Saundra keeps a
very
tidy studio. What would you say if I told you someone’s studio was so pristine that it basically didn’t have anything in it?”

“Saundra’s studio was clean?”

“Immaculate. So clean you could see the countertops.”

“That
is
mysterious. Art is messy. Never trust an artist with a clean studio, that’s what I say.”

“Then Saundra was the least-trustworthy artist ever,” I said. “Also, I learned Saundra didn’t die from falling and cracking her head open on the mirror.”

“What?”

“She was electrocuted.”

“She was electrocuted after she fell down? That doesn’t make much sense.”

“I think it may be that she was electrocuted and then fell down.”

Tessa stared at me in disbelief.

“I got a peek at the coroner’s report,” I said.

“I don’t want to know how you were able to do that.”

“It said that Saundra had a big oval burn at the base of her spine. Someone electrocuted her.”

“What could have caused an injury like that?”

“All Val and I could think of was a cattle prod,” I said.

“That can’t be right,” she said.

“I know it seems highly unlikely—but not impossible. Val said that if someone with a weak heart was zapped with a cattle prod, they could die.”

“Since when is Val an expert on electricity, or electrocution, or—“

“And the autopsy said that Saundra had a heart condition,” I said.

“But who would have a cattle prod?” she asked.

“Saundra’s brother. He’s a rancher, he’d have one,” I said, but as soon as I said it, I realized there was someone else I knew who had a cattle prod.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Tessa asked.

“Vance.”

THIRTY

“WE HAVE TWO PEOPLE
who have the same weapon, but seriously, who could walk around a bead bazaar with a cattle prod and go unnoticed?” Tessa asked. “And neither of those men have a motive.”

“No motive that we know of. Saundra’s brother, Bruce, seemed paranoid and trigger-happy. He almost shot Val and me when we showed up at his sister’s house unannounced. And Vance, with all of that scary gear in his room, who knows how violent he could be.”

“And remember, someone vandalized our room—that could have been Vance.”

“I know, but just because the guy uses Vandal for his studio name doesn’t mean he’s an
actual
vandal.”

Luke strutted past on the way to his booth. The long oilskin coat he was wearing fluttered as he walked.

“What about Luke? He’s got a long coat on, long enough to hide a cattle prod,” I said. “He certainly had a reason to kill Saundra,” I added. “She cost him a lot of money when she was a no-show at the class she was supposed teach.”

“I don’t know, Jax. It seems like there are almost as many suspects as people at this show.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not Sal. He seemed to have worked out his problems with Saundra before the show started,” I said.

“Miles?”

“Saundra didn’t treat him well. But he seems too wimpy to kill someone. Although he might be able to fit a cattle prod into his ukulele case,” I said.

“He plays a ukulele—how could he possibly be a murderer?” asked Tessa as she stepped around to the front of the table to neaten things up.

“Beep beep!” Wendy zipped by Tessa, nearly running her over. “You shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the aisle.”

“You shouldn’t be driving your scooter over the speed limit,” Tessa replied. Too late—Wendy was gone.

Tessa tugged on one of Vance’s table lights to adjust it. It flickered and went out.

“I’m sorry. I think I might have unplugged the light,” Tessa said.

I crawled under the table and looked at the plug. It was still connected to the socket of the beat-up power box, pieces of black tape holding together a cable that snaked toward another booth down the aisle.

“I figured it out,” I said to Tessa, pulling myself back into a chair.

“Well, the light’s still not working, so I’m not sure you did,” Tessa said.

“I think I know what killed Saundra, and it wasn’t a cattle prod.”

“What was it then? The hand of God?” Tessa made the sign of the cross, just in case she shouldn’t be joking about God. “A lightning bolt? Static electricity?”

“Remember when Ernie was here fixing the power? He said the cables had a lot of
juice
running through them.”

“They hook into the main power supply for the hotel, I think,” Tessa said.

“I think someone jammed one of these frayed cables into Saundra’s back and let a million volts hit her spinal column,” I said.

“The hotel was having all sorts of electrical problems on Preview Night. Maybe Saundra’s murderer caused the blackout when he—“

“Or she—“

“—zapped her.”

“The killer must have been near Saundra when the blackout started happening. Like Miles, who was working in her booth,” I said.

“You were practically right next to her, Jax. No wonder the detective thinks you’re the prime suspect,” Tessa said. “But you’re not the killer, right?”

“Geez. No, Tessa, you
know
it’s not me.”

“I know, I know, but it has to be someone here, and so far, I don’t think we’ve found a single person who is a reasonable suspect, or could even point us in the right direction.”

“I wish I could find the mystery bead seller. She’s involved in Saundra’s death somehow,” I said. “It’s too bad the Saturday Market is only open on Saturdays. I’m certainly not going to wait around in Portland for another week to find her.”

“But it
is
open today. It’s called the Saturday Market, but it’s really the weekend market,” Tessa said. She must have known that by admitting this, she was doomed to stay working at my booth while I went to the market in search of a woman with green hair.

“Tessa?”

“How can I help you?” Tessa said, but not to me. She was greeting a customer who was approaching my table. She glanced over her shoulder and mouthed the words, “Good luck!”

• • •

When I got to the elevator, Vance was waiting there along with several other hotel guests. Two elevators arrived at the same time and when the doors opened, all of us were hit with the smell of Val’s Chanel No. 6. Vance and I stepped into one of the elevators together. It still seemed mysteriously cold, although maybe not as cold as it had been previously. Maybe Val’s perfume actually did keep away ghosts.

“Hi, Vance. Thanks for the lights,” I said as the elevator doors clunked shut. I was nervous being in the elevator with him. He seemed harmless enough, but after seeing all the kinky gear in his room, plus the possibility that he’d vandalized my room, I was worried about what he was capable of doing, especially in this confined space.

“You’re welcome,” Vance said, fumbling with his glasses, which were completely broken in two. “Do you have any duct tape on you?” he asked.

“No, but Tessa has some tools and glue up in the room. I’m headed up there now if you want to come along.” Since Val would be in our room, at least I knew I wouldn’t be alone with him. Vance looked up at me. His cheek was bruised, red and purple.

“What happened to your face? Did someone hit you?”

“Oh, well, that. Yeah, I was afraid someone might see that,” Vance said, looking back down at his broken glasses.

“Vance, who hit you?” I asked, as I took the pieces of his glasses from him and tried to figure out how we’d be able to put them back together.

“Can I trust you?” Vance asked.

“Of course,” I said. It was nice that he trusted me enough to fix his glasses.

He reached over and pushed the emergency stop button on the elevator, and it screeched to a halt between floors.

“Geez! Vance! What’s up with you? Are you crazy? Start the elevator up—now.”

“Jax, I need to talk with you. It’s about Lin. She’s a maniac. Ever since I started buying all those props for the photo shoots, she’s really gotten into the part. At night she puts on those clothes and gets out the leather cuffs. It scares me. A lot.”

“Did she hit you, Vance?” I asked. It was completely ridiculous that the tiny, demure Lin could do anything to hurt big, soft Vance. “Vance, are you listening to me? Did she hurt you?”

“It’s just that she kind of kicked me in the head while I was lying down.”

“No!”

“Yes, like I told you, she’s been trying out all sorts of things. The whip…”

“Did she use the cattle prod on you? Don’t tell me she used the cattle prod.”

“That thing? We bought it from a theater company—it has nothing inside it to shock anyone. I’m glad, though, because I really wouldn’t want to get electrocuted.”

Vance’s cattle prod didn’t work. It seemed unlikely that Bruce would have driven all the way from the country to zap the life out of his sister in front of dozens of bead ladies, when he easily could have killed her at her house. Unless someone else at the bead bazaar owned a cattle prod, which I highly doubted, then Saundra Jameson was electrocuted using a giant electrical power supply cord.