Paper-Thin Alibi (12 page)

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Authors: Mary Ellen Hughes

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BOOK: Paper-Thin Alibi
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Well then?
A car horn beeped and Jo suddenly realized she was blocking an alleyway exit. She waved apologetically and hustled out of the way.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” she muttered, aware, as she continued on down the sidewalk, that she’d better figure it out.
Chapter 11
Jo was munching on her turkey and bacon roll-up at the back of the craft shop when the phone rang.
Since Carrie was in midbite of her veggie burger and struggling to keep control of the straggly bean sprouts that topped it, Jo mumbled, “I’ll get it,” and swallowed as quickly as she could manage without choking.
“Jo’s Craft Corner,” she said, having dropped her usual, “Jo, here,” after Penny Collins’s stuttering reaction that morning.
The caller obviously still picked up that it was she, saying, “Hello, Jo,” but didn’t hang up. “This is Gabe Stubbins.”
“Gabe! Great to hear from you.”
“And good to talk to you too. I hope you’re doing well?”
“Things could be worse, I guess,” Jo said, thinking they didn’t have a long ways to go.
“Well, maybe this will help a little. I have the information I promised to get for you.”
“About Bill Ewing?”
“Yes. Got a pencil?”
Jo scribbled down the name and address Gabe gave her.
“Do you know anything about this friend?” she asked. “Is he a photographer too?”
“
She
owns a restaurant. Guess I should have mentioned that. More of a small diner, it sounds like, possibly the kind of place people find by following those knife-and-fork signs near a freeway exit. I gather there’s a modest motel connected to it. I suppose Bill’s staying in one of the rooms.”
“Thanks, Gabe. This should be very helpful. Are you back home now?”
“Yes, I’m here in Pennsylvania for a few days, but I’ll be off again to Richmond, Virginia, Thursday.” Gabe chuckled. “The wife claims instead of ‘His’ and ‘Her’ towels, she should have ‘Hers’ and ‘Welcome Stranger.’ ”
“I didn’t know you were doing another show so soon. A Michicomi?”
“Right. I hadn’t been scheduled for this one, but with the show losing Linda they had an opening. I decided to take it. I had plenty of toys stocked up, and Richmond’s a good stop.”
“I’m sure it is. Well, try to get some rest before hitting the road again. Thanks for getting this information for me.”
Gabe wished her luck with it and said good-bye. Jo turned to Carrie, who’d finished her veggie burger by this time and was gathering up the wrappings.
“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” Jo asked.
“I have no idea. I haven’t been to the market lately and our pickings are slim. Plus both Charlie and Amanda have after-school things going on, which means having to pick them up instead of food shopping and cooking.”
“Perfect!” Jo smiled and Carrie threw her a puzzled look. “I think you deserve dinner out at”—Jo checked her note—“Ginger’s House of Home Cookin’.”
“I do?” Carrie asked, uncertainly. “Where’s that?”
“Just off Route 30, at exit 14. A pleasant drive on a spring evening and a delightful spot for a family dinner. I hope.”
Jo explained what Gabe had told her. “I’d go scout it out myself, but I’ve got the workshop tonight and I was hoping to get to the hospital sometime.”
“Oh, of course!” The uncertainty on Carrie’s face was replaced by an eagerness to help. “I’ll just check in with Dan, but I’m sure he’ll be fine with it. What do you want us to find out?”
“Anything you can, I guess.” Jo described Bill Ewing to Carrie. “If we’re lucky, you’ll spot him hanging around there. If not, maybe you can strike up a conversation with the owner, Ginger, and see what you can pick up about him. Anything at all will be helpful.”
“We’ll do our best.” Carrie opened her cell phone to call her husband about the idea, and Jo walked back to the stockroom to gather together the materials she needed for the workshop. She had checked the sign-up sheet to see who was coming and mentally crossed off the names of two people she felt sure would not show up. That left Ina Mae, Javonne, Loralee, and Loralee’s daughter, Dulcie.
Considering the topic sure to be discussed beyond their project, Jo thought it should be an interesting evening.
A few hours later, Jo spread out materials for four on the workshop table, thinking, with little satisfaction, that she had been right. Around five o’clock both Ellie Blandsfield and Sally Holloway had called to cancel, each claiming unexpected emergencies. At least they’d been considerate enough to call, Jo thought, and she had responded as courteously, leaving an opening for them to return should they have a change of heart. That was a slim possibility, Jo knew, but she brushed away the thought, not wanting to dwell on the negative.
On the positive side, she had talked to Russ, briefly, and he’d sounded much better than he had the night before. She’d hoped to run over to the hospital before the workshop, but Russ suggested she come by later, explaining there’d been a steady stream of fellow police officers stopping in.
“You won’t be too tired?” she’d asked.
“Not for you,” he’d answered, which made her smile. “I’ll have the nurse put a hold on visitors pretty soon and catch a few z’s. You’ll be on my approved list.”
“Nice to be approved of.”
“
Highly
approved of,” he’d said, which had broadened her smile even more.
Jo pushed the large box of tissue papers to the middle of the table. She was deciding how much wire and glue to set out when Loralee and Dulcie walked in.
“There she is!” Loralee called out cheerfully with what was becoming her regular greeting. Jo rather liked it, coming, as it did from a good friend. If, on the other hand, Jo started hearing it from strangers as she walked down the street, as in, “There she is—that murder suspect,”
that
would be an altogether different matter.
Dulcie followed behind, and Jo noted the similarities and differences between mother and daughter. Dulcie mirrored her mother’s petite frame but hadn’t inherited Loralee’s blond curls, sporting instead straight brown hair worn in a becoming bob. From the few interactions Jo had had with Dulcie, she seemed to have been blessed with much of Loralee’s blithe nature, but tempered with a touch of steeliness. This surfaced particularly when her young family was concerned, much like a protective mother bear. But Jo decided that since she had no intention of ever getting between Dulcie and her brood, it shouldn’t be a problem.
Jo welcomed them both, listening politely as Dulcie launched into a detailed explanation of the effort it had taken to arrive on time what with her having to feed and bathe both children plus tidy up and get a couple of loads of laundry going. Since her husband, Ken, was apparently home and not incapacitated, Jo suspected he had long ago realized she was happier doing such things herself—and then being able to exclaim about it—and that his best bet was to keep out of her way.
“How is our lieutenant doing?” Loralee asked, her face pinched with concern.
“Much better,” Jo assured her.
Loralee gave Jo’s arm a squeeze. “I know this is a difficult time for you, dear. I wouldn’t have dreamed of expecting you to carry on with this workshop, except Javonne thought we might be able to come up with ways to help with that craft show problem if we all gathered together.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that happened, Loralee. There’s something about everyone’s ideas being thrown into the mix that always seems to work.”
“Like putting together a good potting soil,” Dulcie said, looking sage. “A little humus, some fertilizer, maybe a bit of lime, and pretty soon good things get growing.”
Loralee laughed lightly, explaining, “Dulcie’s been working in the garden lately.” Ina Mae and Javonne pushed through the Craft Corner door at that time, and Loralee waved them over, calling out cheerily, “C’mon, ladies. Time to get planting!”
“We can start on our paper flowers before getting into anything else,” Jo said, as the women seated themselves around her table. “Loralee, do you remember these?”
“Yes,” Loralee said. “I certainly do. Those paper flowers were one of the first things I noticed when we first visited Sylvia and Xavier. They had brightened up that little apartment so beautifully.”
“How is the baby?” Javonne asked.
“Even prettier than the flowers,” Loralee said, “and growing like a weed,” she added with a grin.
“I would have loved to have Sylvia help teach this class,” Jo said, “but her hands are pretty full for now. She did give me a few tips, though, and I’ve practiced by making several myself.” And hung them about my booth at Michicomi, she remembered but didn’t mention, not wanting to bring up the craft fair problem just yet. Jo reached for the tissue paper. “There are several types of flowers we can make, but we’ll start with the easiest one.”
Jo picked out a sheet each of white, blue, red, and yellow and laid them evenly on top of one another. “You can use one color or several colors, whichever you prefer. But you’ll need four sheets, and we’ll cut a square out of all four lined up together.” Jo did that, then straightened them up neatly. “Next, keeping the papers together, you’ll make small accordion pleats like this all across the square.” Jo folded her papers back and forth until she ended up with a skinny rectangle.
“Now,” she said, “take a piece of wire and twist it tightly around the center of this rectangle, and voila!” Jo fluffed out her paper layers to form a beautiful, and extremely colorful, flower.
“Wow, neat!” Dulcie cried.
“And remarkably simple,” Ina Mae said.
“It is,” Jo agreed. “And once you have your flower you can cover the wire stem with floral tape or use crepe paper if you prefer. Make a bunch of these and you’ve got a vase full of long-lasting decoration.”
“Hah,” Javonne said. “I don’t expect them to last long in my place, between my roughhousing kids and the dog. Maybe if I hang them from the ceiling.”
The ladies got down to work, picking out their tissue papers as Jo passed around scissors and rulers. “After you guys finish this one,” she said, “I’ll show you a few, more intricate flower shapes until we run out of time.”
“This would be a piece of cake for Vernon, wouldn’t it?” Javonne said, referring to Vernon Dobson, the only male in Jo’s past beading workshops. Vernon, a retired butcher, had shown surprising ability at learning that particular craft, and had helped Javonne with it, as she had struggled.
“Oh, Vernon,” Loralee said. “Where did they go, again?”
“A cruise in the western Caribbean,” Javonne said. “His wife wanted to go, he told me. I think he wasn’t too sure about it. He’s never been on a cruise.”
“He’ll enjoy it,” Loralee said. “But it’s unfortunate for us that he’s gone right now. We could probably use his input on Jo’s problem.”
“Speaking of which,” Ina Mae said, “what’s the latest, Jo, on the Linda Weeks murder?” She lined up tissue papers she had chosen in varying shades of purple.
Jo had stepped back to pour herself a mug of coffee, wondering as she did how many cups that came to for the day. Her adrenaline from the previous night had begun to run out somewhere near midafternoon.
“I found out a couple of things,” she said. “The first from Meg Boyer, when I went over to the Abbot’s Kitchen.”
“Oh, Meg!” Loralee cried. “Is she happy with her new job?”
“It seems to be working out. Meg was able to find out for me that Linda’s ex-husband lives over in Marlsburg. He does custom-made furniture.”
“Marlsburg!” Dulcie said. “That’s right down the road!”
“Right, half an hour’s drive at most,” Jo agreed.
“Hmm,” Ina Mae said. “Do you suppose this ex-husband knew Linda was in the area?”
“That’s something I plan to find out. I’ll drive over to see him tomorrow.”
“Would you like me to come with you?” Dulcie asked. She had chosen to make her first flower in a single shade of hot pink and was folding her square carefully. “I’m looking for a corner cabinet for our dining room—they’re
so
hard to find—so maybe I could start off the conversation with this ex-husband about making one, and then work things around to Linda.”
“A wonderful idea,” Loralee chimed in. “I can watch the children for you, so no problem there.”
The others nodded, and Jo, who had planned to make the trip alone, thought that it might just work to take Dulcie along. Dulcie had an easy, disarming way about her that could help draw out Patrick Weeks. “Okay,” Jo said. “Does one o’clock work for you?”
“Perfect.” Dulcie fanned out her tissue paper flower, which had turned out quite well. Dulcie grinned, admiring her first craft creation, and Loralee beamed like the ever-proud mother she was.
Seeing that the group had mastered the basic paper flower, Jo proceeded to demonstrate a petal flower shape, showing them how to cut the tissue paper, into circles this time, then fold the circles into quarters and shape the petals with scissors.

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