Jo was still nodding over this little satisfaction when the door opened and Carrie came in along with a burst of cold, January air.
“Oh, Jo!” Carrie said, stopping just inside the door. Her face, normally so serene, was flushed and strained. Jo had only seen it this distressed one other time—after Mike’s accident, when Carrie had rushed to New York to be with her.
Jo drew a quick breath. “What? What is it?” she asked, hurrying over to Carrie, and fearing the worst.
“Jo, it wasn’t an accident at all. Parker Holt was murdered!”
Jo’s first reaction of shock was immediately followed by a guilty feeling of relief. Surely this let Dan off the hook? Terrible as it was, at least it didn’t have anything to do with him. But Carrie obviously wasn’t sharing that feeling.
“Tell me the rest.”
Carrie took a deep breath, shaking her head over the wrongness of it all.
“They’re looking at Xavier.”
Chapter 6
Jo flipped the “Closed” sign on the Craft Corner door, turned the lock, and drew Carrie to the back of the shop.
“Okay, what’s this all about? First of all, why do they think it’s murder?”
Carrie sank into Jo’s desk chair. Now that she’d spilled the worst, she seemed at a loss for words. Jo poured out a mug of coffee and put it into Carrie’s hands.
“Here, drink.”
Carrie did, pulling off her gloves and opening her jacket in between sips, her head continuing to shake with disbelief. Jo leaned against her desk and waited.
“Oh, Jo. It’s all so awful.”
“Start from the beginning, Carrie. What exactly happened to Parker Holt?”
“He walked into a trap.” Carrie took another sip, then choked on a new thought. “Jo! It’s so lucky you never went down those steps after him. You might have been killed too!”
“What! Why? What was going on?”
“Holt was electrocuted. It was all set up, waiting for him.”
Jo was trying hard to be patient. “What was, Carrie?”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m being incoherent. It’s just so . . .” Carrie cleared her throat, possibly with the hope of straightening the distressing jumble in her head as well. “The handrail, along Holt’s basement stairs. It was metal. Wrought iron. Someone stripped one end of an electrical cord and wrapped the bare copper wire around the lower part of that rail. Then they plugged the other end of the cord in.”
Jo winced.
“Dan explained it to me,” Carrie continued. “He said that alone wouldn’t have been enough to kill the man. But there was also a crowbar on the stairs near Holt. The crowbar had a battery jumper cable attached to it that ran to a nearby copper water pipe. The police are speculating that the person who set this up planted the crowbar on a lower stair. Holt probably reached down to move it out of his way, while automatically holding on to the wired metal railing for balance. The electricity would have surged right through him, killing him instantly.”
The image Carrie presented was chilling. “And that could have killed me too?” Jo asked.
“Well, I suppose only if you’d grabbed hold of both things, the rail and the crowbar. It’s something to do with grounding. The electricity needed the connection to the water pipe to run all the way through the body. The paramedics, though, were lucky. One of them spotted the wires right away.”
Jo pictured the danger she might have blundered into, shivering, but had a question. “Why wouldn’t Holt have spotted the wires?”
“Dan wondered about that too. But he said there was a rag near the crowbar. It could have been thrown over the end of the crowbar where the wire was attached, covering it. Even then,” Carrie said, looking up questioningly, “Holt probably wouldn’t have been looking for something of that sort, would he? I’d think he would’ve just seen the crowbar left sloppily in his way as he was trotting down the steps, and would have grabbed at it in annoyance.”
Jo nodded. She could envision the man who had been described to her as a perfectionist reaching impatiently for the tool and thinking only of the blistering earful he would later give Dan and Xavier. Which reminded her of the major cause of Carrie’s upset.
“Why do they suspect Xavier particularly?” Jo asked. “From all you’ve told me, he doesn’t sound like anyone that evil.”
“No, absolutely not! He’s the gentlest person you’d ever meet. It’s completely ridiculous.”
“But they have some reason?”
Carrie sighed. “They do, but if they really knew Xavier they’d know it just doesn’t work. I should be glad they’re not suspecting Dan—and believe me, I am! But Xavier—”
The handle of Jo’s front door rattled as someone obviously didn’t believe Jo’s “Closed” sign, and Carrie looked over at it worriedly.
“Never mind,” Jo said. “They’ll come back.”
“I hope so.” Carrie shifted out of her jacket. “I just came from Sylvia’s place. She told me the whole story. The poor thing’s trying really hard to hold it together, and in her state—the baby and all—I’m really worried about her. Anyway,” Carrie said, clearly trying to hold it all together herself, “as far as why the police are concentrating on Xavier: I don’t know if I mentioned Sylvia used to clean houses?”
“Actually, I think Sylvia mentioned it.”
“One of the houses,” Carrie said, “was Parker Holt’s. Remember Dan said Holt popped in a lot to check on his work in the basement? Well, he also managed to stop in a lot when Sylvia was scrubbing and vacuuming too, and it wasn’t just to check on her work.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Right. Mallory Holt was seldom around when Sylvia came. If she was, she usually took off within minutes. She was involved in things like the Junior League and such. Parker obviously knew his wife’s schedule and Sylvia’s too.” Carrie paused and gave Jo a significant look.
“So he thought he could set up a little fun with the maid during the day,” Jo filled in.
Carrie nodded. “Sylvia said she tried her best to discourage his advances, but she ended up having to quit altogether. She was in her early stages of pregnancy and she told Mallory Holt she was feeling too ill, though she continued working at her other homes. Mallory Holt had paid well, though, and Sylvia didn’t know how to explain leaving there to Xavier. When he questioned her she became upset, and it all came out.
“He was furious, of course, and she had to beg him not to confront Holt. Sylvia finally convinced Xavier that a fight with Holt might jeopardize their chances of bringing Xavier’s younger brother here from Mexico. They saw Holt as a powerful man who could make more trouble for them if he chose to.”
“So that was the reason for Xavier’s dark mood whenever Holt came by.”
“Dan told you about that? Yes, poor Xavier. Dan had no idea what he was forcing him to do, refurbishing the home of the man who had sexually harassed his wife.”
“I don’t know about forcing, Carrie. After all, Xavier could have said no, couldn’t he?”
“That’s probably what the police are thinking, Jo. That Xavier worked the job solely for the chance to take his revenge on Holt. They don’t see that he really didn’t have much choice in the matter. Xavier needed the income. His wife is having their baby soon. The only other construction jobs around here were with Holt’s own crew, which would have meant encountering Holt even more—long term. At least Dan’s job was short term.”
“That’s true.”
“Plus Dan, who knows Xavier pretty well, says if he were inclined to murder at all—which we know he wasn’t—he wouldn’t do it in this underhanded way. He would go face to face, giving Holt a fighting chance.”
“They haven’t actually charged Xavier, though, have they?” Jo asked.
“No. But I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time, unless they come up with a better suspect.”
Jo thought for a while. “If Holt was behaving that way toward Sylvia, I’ll bet she wasn’t his only victim. I imagine there might be a few other husbands, or angry women, with motives just as strong as Xavier’s.”
Carrie’s face took on its first glimmer of hope. “I’ll bet there are.”
“And who knows what other enemies he might have had from other areas. Don’t give up hope yet, Carrie. I suspect that with a little shaking, a few beads just might fall off the string.”
That evening, Jo was reminded of her brave words to Carrie as she set her boxes of beads about the table for the earring workshop. She had thrown out the probability of other suspects for Carrie’s sake, with little idea if it had any weight to it. But she hoped so.
Though she’d never met him, Jo felt nearly as bad for Xavier as Carrie did. He hadn’t been charged and was free to be home with his wife. But that freedom, as Jo well knew, would be far from worry-free while the axe still hovered over his neck, ready, at the first signal, to fall. Xavier and Sylvia, she was sure, must be going through hell.
Was Lieutenant Morgan convinced Xavier was the one?
Jo wondered. Should she try to talk to him about this? No, she’d better talk to Xavier first. While Jo couldn’t imagine Sylvia choosing to marry a man who would step on an ant, much less commit homicide, and Carrie and Dan were no slouches at judging character, nevertheless, she wanted to see for herself.
Jo thought of the mind-jarring turn of events. Just a few short hours ago her worries had centered on the effect Holt’s death could have on Dan’s small business if the death was caused by his negligence. Dan’s professional reputation would certainly be shredded, and his and Carrie’s income severely diminished.
But the effect could be just as devastating if Xavier were charged with murder. Xavier was Dan’s employee, and they had worked together closely for the time leading up to the murder. The collateral damage to Dan and Carrie was undeniable. Jo hoped that a murder charge would never come, but the fact remained that the longer Xavier was considered a “person of interest” the harder the mud would stick—to everyone concerned.
Jo went back to her storeroom to get the Vellux work pads for the group. As she pulled them out of their box, surrounded by her myriad crafting supplies, she was reminded that the question about her shop’s future still remained, though temporarily buried beneath this rock slide of events. What would Parker Holt’s death mean to her shop? She still didn’t know if he had in fact bought her building, since Max had never returned her calls. For all she knew he was sailing out of reach somewhere in the Caribbean sipping margaritas.
If Max
had
sold out, how did Holt’s death affect things? Would whatever plans he had for her building still be carried out? Jo needed to track down the answer to that question in addition to the others that had rolled onto her doorstep.
But for the moment, she thought, as she tossed the work pads about the table, her central question needed to be how to teach her novices the techniques of beading. So she’d best set these concerns aside.
The shop’s door opened, and Javonne Barnett sailed in. “Hey, Jo! Wow, isn’t that a shock about Parker Holt?”
So much for setting anything aside.
“You’re early, Javonne. No late patients tonight?”
Javonne worked with her husband Harry, a dentist, and Jo was used to seeing Javonne dash in late for workshops, full of legitimate excuses involving last-minute dental emergencies. Usually dressed in medical whites, Javonne looked particularly chic this evening as she pulled off her coat to reveal a burnt orange and tan outfit that complimented her mocha complexion nicely.
“We actually had time to go out to dinner!” Javonne exclaimed. “Harry’s mom is watching the kids, and Harry went off to Baltimore to give a seminar. Dental implants. Sounds like fun, huh? So what about all this with Parker Holt?” Javonne dropped her wrap on the “coat chair,” so designated because of the two wobbly legs that made it a less desirable seat. She pitched in to help Jo open the bead boxes spread over the table.
Jo drew a breath to speak, but then the shop’s door flew open once more, ushering in a draft of January chill countered by the warm smiles of Loralee Phillips and Ina Mae Kepner.
“Jo, dear,” Loralee said, hurrying up to Jo, her ever-present large tote on her arm, “are you sure you’re up to this? You must have had a terrible couple of days, not to mention poor Carrie. She’s not here, is she?” Loralee looked over to Carrie’s knitting area with motherly concern. A petite, white-haired woman, not much bigger than her outsized bag, Loralee always seemed on the verge of pulling out jars of homemade chicken soup and checking foreheads for fever.
“No, Carrie’s home tonight,” Jo said.
“Good,” Ina Mae pronounced. She pulled off her long coat and pushed up the sleeves of her blue velour warm-up jacket, ready to get down to work. After greeting Javonne, she glanced around. “Vernon’s not here yet?”
“Vernon?” Javonne asked. “Vernon who?”
“Vernon Dobson. Former proprietor of Dobson’s Meats. Ever go there?” Ina Mae asked.
“Lord, yes, all the time. But that sweet man who kept my family in excellent steaks and hamburger is coming tonight to make beaded earrings?”
Ina Mae didn’t need to answer as the “sweet man” himself appeared, red-cheeked and blinking as he paused inside the shop’s door.