Death Among the Doilies by Mollie Cox Bryan Page B

that the cops can’t find,” Cora said to Jane. “Makes me feel all warm and cozy.”
    Jude, who had been hanging around on the periphery, walked up to Cora and Jane.
    â€œI couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying,” he said. “I didn’t want to bring up Jane’s predicament . . .”
    â€œYou know, of course, that she’s innocent,” Cora said, perhaps a bit too fast.
    Jane stood by silently, brooding. Her were arms crossed, and the nearby mums and marigolds framed her long cur vy figure.
    â€œOf course,” Jude said, smiling at Jane. “But I wanted to say I think you’re on to something. I think someone wants people to believe she killed Sarah. That’s how it appears.”
    Cora warmed. She already liked this guy a lot, and now, she liked him even more.
    He hitched his fingers in his jeans. “Sarah Waters, man, what a pain in the ass.”
    â€œExcuse me,” Jane said. “Did you know her?”
    â€œYes, that’s one of the things the cops were talking with me about.”
    â€œI’m all ears, Jude,” Cora said.
    â€œI bought her broom collection at this auction the family had,” he said. “Evidently one of the daughters is protesting and wants the brooms back.”
    â€œBroom collection?” Jane said, raising her eyebrows.
    â€œI read about it online,” Cora said.
    â€œWho collects brooms?” Jane said, incredulous.
    â€œI do,” Jude replied and chuckled.
    â€œYou’re a broom maker,” Jane replied. “That makes sense. But why would Sarah?”
    â€œWho knows why anybody collects anything?” Cora said, realizing the police were still scattered about the backyard. “Maybe we should take our conversation inside.”
    â€œNah, you go ahead,” Jane said. “I need to find some paint and get that door fixed before London gets home.”
    * * *
    Cora poured Jude a glass of sweet tea. He sat at her kitchen table eating an egg-salad sandwich. While Cora loved her new home, she despised the small, somewhat dingy kitchen. One of these days, the kitchen would also be remodeled. Eventually, she wanted to offer baking classes. But, first things first.
    â€œSo, you knew Sarah?” she asked Jude.
    â€œI did. Not well,” he said, then took a drink of his tea. “I knew her ex-husband better. We worked at the mill together for a few years before my business took off. He actually worked more with my dad.”
    Cora knew the “mill” everybody talked about was the local textile mill, now closed, just another blow in the local economy. It was famous for its fine indigo-blue cotton.
    â€œHer ex lives in Pennsylvania now,” he added.
    â€œWhat was she like? Why did they get a divorce?” Divorce wasn’t such an odd occurrence these days, but Cora made a mental note to check into the court records to see exactly what kind of divorce occurred. Cora knew enough about murder to know that usually the victim knew her killer. Husbands and ex-husbands were usually at the top of the suspect list—for good reason.
    â€œYou know, I never knew why. Nobody did. But she changed. I think she became a health freak or something and lost a lot of weight at one point and the next thing you knew, they were getting a divorce,” he said and bit into his sandwich.
    â€œSomeone said she was a typical librarian,” Cora prompted.
    â€œI suppose,” he said. “Whatever that means. But I guess she was bookish. She had quite the book collection. Still does, from what I hear. The family didn’t sell her books.”
    â€œHow odd that they want the brooms back,” Cora said.
    â€œThere’s one daughter who wasn’t around when all of this went down,” he said. “She wanted the brooms for herself. But I paid for them fair and square.” He hesitated. He seemed to be considering his situation. “I love those