Death at the Door by K. C. Greenlief Page B

walked through a massive kitchen full of commercial-looking appliances and out to a greenhouse full of orchids and other exotic plants. Rose asked Delia to have the cook make tea for the Thomas Lee room and the sunroom. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Rose came from old money. She was gracious but used to giving orders and being waited on. Everything about her from her just-so blond hair to her perfect posture and her matching slacks, sweater, and shoes shouted money.
    She took Ann’s arm as she led them back through the hall to a room off the dining room. Ann had been dying to see the Thomas Lee room for months, since Cathy Lowery had first told her about it. The large room had windows on one wall and a fireplace on another, but the remainder was covered with lighted, built-in shelving filled with carnival glass. The room was flooded with sunlight and the walls seemed to sparkle from the light reflecting off the iridescent glass. Ann was so excited that she had to remind herself to breathe. She walked over to the shelves, ignoring the large pastel Oriental rug, the cherry mantel, and the four carved cherry card tables that would normally have held her attention. She was drawn like a magnet to a cabinet full of red carnival glass.
    â€œI told you, you wouldn’t believe it,” John said, putting his arm around her shoulders.
    â€œI’m speechless.” Ann smiled at Rose. “You have more carnival glass than the Fenton Glass Museum.”
    â€œI’m sure John’s told you the story behind this, but let me give you the short version before we sit down and talk about Paul.” Rose took Ann’s arm and led her to one of the card tables. “My great-grandmother’s family settled in Pennsylvania before coming to Washington Island. Three of her brothers stayed behind and went to work as mold makers and glassblowers in the glass factories in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and West Virginia. Nimo worked at Imperial and Millersburg, Thomas Lee worked at Fenton, and Jed worked for Northwood. When great-grandmother married, she received a lot of very fine Tiffany glass. You’ll see it all over the house. Her brothers made taffeta glass or poor man’s Tiffany glass, what we now call carnival glass.” Rose stopped and looked around the room.
    â€œGrandma Iris tried to buy at least one of everything her brothers made. They also sent her their ‘one of a kinds’ and whimsies. As you can see from the card tables, this used to be the card room. That was always a big joke around here since Grandpa Amos’s last name was Card. Thomas Lee came here for his summer holiday and died in a boating accident out in Eagle Harbor. Grandma Iris had the cabinets built around the room and put Thomas Lee’s carnival glass in here and renamed this the Thomas Lee room. Our most unusual carnival glass is now in here, and the rest of her collection is all over the house.”
    â€œThere’s more?” Ann said, finding it hard to believe that someone could have more carnival glass than what was in this room.
    â€œGrandma Iris never saw a piece of glass or pottery she didn’t like and Amos couldn’t resist books of any kind.” Rose got up from the card table. “This house has twenty bedrooms and an attic, so they had plenty of space to fill. They were both pack rats. My sisters and I inherited an incredible amount of wonderful glass and books. Violet has most of great-grandmother’s Flow Blue, Lily has her majolica, and Daisy has her cut glass.” Rose showed Ann the carnival glass reference books and told her to enjoy herself while she talked with Joel and John about Paul Larsen.
    Rose led the way to the sunroom. “Sheriff Skewski asked me to talk with you about Paul’s death.” She seated herself in an old white wicker rocker and fixed her eyes on Joel.
    He fished a tape recorder out of his jacket pocket and laid it between them on the