A Collage to Kill For 1

A China Bayles Papercraft Mystery: Paper-mache

Children’s paper-mache art from Jacmel, Haiti

At the time she died, I didn’t know Mattie Long very well. We had connected rather casually several years before, when I attended a papermaking class with Mattie and her sister Caroline (whom I knew better). I have a busy herb shop and a husband and teen-age daughter to take care of, as well as a young man in college who hasn’t yet learned how to use a washing machine. I needed a new craft about as much as I needed another head. (Another pair of hands would of course be welcome.)

Still, I enjoyed the class immensely, and even managed to develop some simple projects for a make-and-take class on paper-making with herbs and flowers that I teach at my herb shop a couple of times a year. Caroline enjoyed the class, too, although I think origami was the extent of her interest.

Mattie, however, was so inspired that she went on to become a paper artist, those inspiring people who create paper-mache, paper sculpture, collages, origami, boxes, and even lampshades—all kinds of paper art. 

To Kill a Mockingbird. Artist: Jodi Harvey says “My book sculptures are my way of making stories come alive.”

Mattie’s day job (she managed the office for Dr. Richard Weaver, a local gynecologist) and her growing passion for paper art took so much of her time that we only saw one another when she dropped in to gather plant materials from the shop gardens—lavender and rosemary, fresh rose petals and pansies—to incorporate into her various projects. 

Then, six months or so ago, she told me that she was doing well enough with the sale of her art to rent a second-floor studio in the Craft Emporium next door. I saw her fairly frequently after that, going in and out, toting bags and boxes of supplies, stopping to chat with the other craftspeople—until I saw her for the very last time, lying dead at the foot of the stairs. It was definitely a shock, I’ll tell you. You don’t expect to discover a dead body on a quiet Tuesday morning before breakfast.

But maybe I’d better back up and fill you in on some of the background details. My name is China Bayles. After I left my law career (I was a criminal defense attorney in a large Houston law firm) I opened a shop called Thyme and Seasons Herbs, in Pecan Springs, Texas, a small Hill Country town halfway between Austin and San Antonio. Why the big change? Well, it’s a long story—I’ll summarize by saying that successfully defending too many bad people who had done too many bad things eroded my faith in the law. Working with plants is more satisfying. And they don’t argue back.

Thyme and Seasons is located in an old two-story limestone building that I share with Ruby Wilcox and her Crystal Cave, the only New Age shop in Pecan Springs. Ruby and I are also partners in Thyme for Tea, serving light lunches and afternoon tea and catering special events. Please drop in the next time you’re buzzing down I-35. You can’t miss us—we’re at 304 Crockett Street, just a couple of blocks off the town square. We’re right next door to the Craft Emporium, a turn-of-the-century Victorian that Constance Letterman has converted into a craft boutique. 

The Craft Emporium

And that’s where I found Mattie Long’s body early on a Tuesday morning, so early that none of the shops were open and nobody else was around. You see, Constance had given Ruby and me a key to the Emporium, so we could get in if there was an emergency. Now, you might not call running out of toilet paper an emergency, but Ruby did, so I was the one who was deputized to take the key, hustle next door, and raid the Emporium’s second-floor supply closet. Constance wouldn’t miss just one roll of toilet paper, but it would take care of the  immediate crisis and hold us until we could restock this vital necessity and sneak a pay-back roll into Constance’s closet later in the day.

Which is why I was stumbling up the Emporium’s first-floor stairs in the dark of a winter Tuesday morning, fumbling for the light switch at the top.

And why, when the light came on just in time to keep me from stepping on a sprawled body, all thought of the immediate crisis totally vanished. That was Mattie on the floor, arms flung wide, head bent at an unnatural angle, neck clearly broken.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she had fallen down the steep, narrow, dog-leg stairs that leads to the second floor. And it’s funny, the things that go through your mind at such a time. My first shocked thought was of Mattie, of course—a life cut short, abruptly, tragically. My second was of Caroline, and of how close the two sisters were, and how much Caroline would miss her. The financial problems that had plagued both of them for so long seemed to have eased in the last few months, and Mattie had been excited and pleased about her new studio space. It was sad that this accident had to happen just when things were going right, for a change. 

That was my friend-self, of course. My lawyer-self also thought of Constance Letterman, who owns the Craft Emporium, and fervently hoped that her liability insurance was up to date. Accidents like this had a way of ending in a costly lawsuit.

I couldn’t have guessed just how much it would cost, or who would pay.

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Supporting subscribers, the premium extras (below) offer a bit of the history of craft/hobby cozy mysteries, a few notes on this story, and suggestions for a craft project.

And if you haven’t yet asked your librarian to put you on the waiting list for the new China Bayles mystery, today would be a very good thyme. 🙂