Free Wicked Weaves by Joyce Lavene, Jim

one brother killed another.”

    “Don’t be foolish, Jessie, and watch the ends of that sweetgrass!” She took her pipe out of her mouth and studied the twisted branches of the small tree, the only thing that grew behind Wicked Weaves. “Abraham would never hurt Joshua. Don’t you know nothin’ about family? Sometimes even if they grow all twisted like this old, gnarly plum tree, it all comes right. Sometimes you think the fruit is bad, but there’ll be a plum or two in there.”

    I was sure there was a lesson to learn from her words, but I was totally confused. I gave up on the metaphor of the plum tree and concentrated on what I was really trying to get at. “If you don’t think Abraham murdered Joshua, who did? He didn’t strangle himself.”

    “And now you don’t think I did it?”

    “I never said—”

    “You didn’t have to. I’m not deaf and blind, Jessie. You were trying to protect me yesterday because you thought I’d killed my Joshua.” She took a puff from her pipe. “While I ’preciate the help, I didn’t murder nobody. I ain’t running.”

    I didn’t want to get caught up in protesting that the idea didn’t cross my mind. “Where were you when Chase and I went outside to find Joshua?”

    “What difference does it make? The police told me Joshua died earlier. That’s really the only reason he let me go. He has to try to figure out how I moved Joshua’s body after I strangled him.”

    I hadn’t thought of that. I was still on the idea of how Mary could forcibly strangle such a large man. I didn’t think she was strong enough. “You must have some idea of what happened. If you don’t think Abraham killed his brother, who else would do it? It had to be someone who knew he was here and had something against him. Did anyone know Joshua besides you?”

    She shook her head. “There’s only me.”

    “Then don’t you think it’s odd Abraham was here, too, for the first time in twenty years? And Joshua just happened to die?” I felt a little like one of those shows about lawyers on TV. I didn’t know any lawyers personally, except for Chase, of course, and that was too new to tell if he ever really talked like that.

    Mary stood up. “Mind that grass and your tongue. You don’t know what you’re saying. Too much can be a bad thing said.”

    “And what about Ham?” I pulled the question out of my brain like a magician pulls a rabbit out of his hat. “I know about your cousin, Mary. Are you trying to protect him?”

    “Ham is my brother. I’ve had enough, Jessie. Go tend to that customer in the shop and leave me be.”

    She walked off with her pipe, leaving her half-finished basket on the steps. I felt bad because I could see she was upset. On the other hand, she was obviously protecting someone, even if it meant her own life would be ruined because of it. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

Six

    Two hours later, I was sitting in Sir Latte’s Beanery next to the tart shop across from Wicked Weaves. Between the TV and newspaper reporters and the crime scene people, they had all but closed the basket shop down. The yellow lines of crime scene tape blocked off the alley and extended to both sides of the area where we’d found Joshua.

    Chase was taking a break with me over a couple of iced mochas when Debby decided to join us. I didn’t mind so much. She was my best history student and always a big help in class. Chase and I were having conversational problems. Most of what we had to say revolved around what had happened to Mary rather than what had happened to us.

    Debby grabbed a cup of coffee, and the three of us sat at the window, watching the police and media circus that had come to Renaissance Faire Village. “What do you think they’re looking for?”

    I shrugged. “I don’t know. I gave up watching detective shows a long time ago. I could never figure out who did it.”

    “They’re looking for pieces of material, hair and skin samples, anything