by Maisy Morgan
“Draco, will you please stay here in the car? I’m going to go get Tripp and get him home too,” Mary said.
Draco nodded. “My parents are on the way?” he asked.
“Yes, your mom is coming,” Mary said and climbed out of the car. “Stay here,” she said again before closing the door.
She passed by the horrid scene just as the crime scene unit was arriving. “Draco okay?” Officer Preston asked.
“He’ll be fine,” Mary said. “His mom is on the way to get him. I wish he hadn’t seen that. I’m going to go get Tripp and take him home.”
“Okay, if I need you to answer any questions, I’ll call you,” Preston said, and Mary nodded.
She headed around towards the back of the house where Bob and Darren were guarding the side gate and back doors like hawks. “Everyone staying back here?” Mary asked.
“Yeah, I don’t think any of the kids know what’s up just yet,” Darren said softly, his eyes lingering towards his daughter, Kara, who was talking with Tripp and giggling under a large oak tree that made up a considerable portion of the backyard. Bradley was standing near them, his arm around Stacey.
“I’m going to get Tripp and get him out of here,” Mary said. “Might want to start letting some of the other kids’ parents know.”
“Most of these kids drove here themselves—cars are parked around in the neighborhood,” Bob said, watching Stacey with a keen eye. “We’re going to wait until they get Ken out of here before we start sending any of them home. None of them need to see that.”
Mary nodded and then crossed the yard towards Tripp. She shook her head slightly, seeing the mortified look on his face that she was entering the party. She was sure it was a little embarrassing for him to have his grandmother come waltzing up, but the circumstances dictated her behavior a bit. “Tripp, we have to go,” Mary said.
Tripp stared back at her. “Why?” he asked.
“Because I said so,” she said, and Bradley snickered.
Tripp’s cheeks went red. “That’s not really a reason,” Tripp said, which took Mary aback for a moment.
“It’s reason enough—let’s go,” she said.
“No,” he said, and Mary was tempted to backhand him—not that she ever would.
“Excuse me?” she questioned.
“You’re not telling me why I need to go—so why should I?” he questioned.
“Tripp, let’s go right now. I’ll explain it to you later,” Mary insisted.
“Explain it to me now,” he said, crossing his arms.
Mary’s eyes narrowed. “You are pushing your luck, Tripp. Let’s go—right now.”
“No,” he said again, and Mary reached out and snagged his sleeve to let him know she was serious.
“You must have lost your mind,” Mary snapped, and she yanked him away from Kara, Stacey, and Bradley. “You want me to embarrass you? I will,” she warned.
She pulled him a few feet, and Tripp jerked his arm away. “Knock it off, Mary!” he snapped, and a few of the boys by the pool all went, “Whoa!” at his sass.
Mary stared at him. Tripp had never acted this way before. “Tripp, don’t you dare,” Mary warned him. “Let’s go—now!”
Bradley, who was looking on curiously, seemed to suddenly look past Mary. He could no doubt see the police cruiser and the ambulance parked in the street. Mary turned to get an idea of exactly what Bradley was seeing, and she cringed to see the paramedics loading a thankfully covered body into the back of the ambulance. Bradley’s jaw dropped. He stepped away from his girlfriend and her friend and looked right at Mary. “What happened? Who’s hurt?” he demanded, but Mary didn’t say anything. It wasn’t her place.
Bradley pushed past her and Tripp and headed towards the gate where Stacey’s father was standing, and the man blocked Bradley. “Hey, go back to the party, Bradley,” Bob said.
“What’s going on?” Bradley demanded, trying to get around Bob.
Darren came over. “Bradley, that’s enough; go back to the pool.”
Mary and Tripp watched on as the scene unfolded. Bob finally had to put both hands on Bradley’s shoulders; he spoke softly to Bradley, and Mary knew that he was telling Bradley what had happened. Bradley let out a slight shriek, practically pushed over Darren, and darted into the house from the back doors. “Mom! Mom!” he was wailing on his way in.
Stacey bolted after him, practically slapping her fathers’ hands away when he tried to stop her. “Bradley! Bradley, what’s wrong!” she cried, chasing after him.
Mary turned around back to Tripp who was staring wide-eyed in Bob and Darren’s direction. “What… what happened?” Tripp asked, losing his attitude at last.
Mary snatched him by his shirt, much to his surprise. “We’re going home now,” she snapped and marched him across the lawn in this fashion, absolutely furious with him for causing a scene.
She pushed through the gate, still gripping onto Tripp, who was now whining about her pulling on his shirt. She let go of him once they were in the driveway. “Walk,” Mary warned him. She could see him looking around frantically. Bradley had made his way through the house and was now sitting next to his mom on the front porch steps; the woman had her arm around her son’s head, and Stacey was seated on his other side wanting to offer some comfort but unsure as to how.
They arrived at Mary’s car. Draco was standing with his mother just outside of it. “Thank you so much for calling me, Mary,” Anna said, shaking her head. “Come on, Draco, let’s get you home.” She walked him down the road, and they got into their own car.
“Get in, now,” Mary said, and Tripp did. Mary sat herself down in the driver’s seat, slamming the car door. She pointed a finger in his face, and Tripp sunk down in his seat. “Don’t you ever—ever—embarrass me and talk to me like that again; do you hear me?” Mary sneered.
Tripp nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Grandma, what happened?”
“Bradley’s father fell off the roof. He hit his head on the driveway.”
Tripp’s eyes widened; he glanced back towards the house, probably measuring how high of a fall that was. “Hit his head?”
“He’s dead, Tripp,” Mary said, throwing the car in reverse. “They wanted to wait to tell Bradley what happened until they could get all of his friends out of here, but thanks to your little temper tantrum…” She simply exhaled, shaking her head. “Never again; I mean it, Tripp!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tripp said, looking very embarrassed now. “I just… I was taken off guard a little, is all…”
“Bull crap,” Mary said. “You were showboating for your new friends. Don’t you dare try to make excuses for that behavior. We’re going home, and you’re going straight to your room when we get there. No video games this evening either; you can get a jumpstart on that book your English teacher assigned.”
Tripp slumped down even further into his seat. But he was a smart kid and knew when he was pushing his luck. All he said was, “Yes, ma’am,” and the subject was dropped. They rode the rest of the way home in silence.
Chapter Eight
The next day, Mary and Tripp were still not on the best of terms with one another. They had to work in close quarters at the shop, though, so they both somewhat swept the incident at the party under the rug. Mary felt she had already given him enough of a lashing in the car on the way home, so she didn’t feel the need to berate him too much. She could tell, though, that he was still a bit embarrassed with her. He kept avoiding eye contact, and he answered her with short and simple yes’s or no’s. So, realizing he needed a bit of space, she handed him a simple sprinkled sugar cookie recipe and sent him into the kitchen. She had been working with him quite a bit with some of the simpler recipes as he had spiked an interest in learning the trade over the summer. He had been pretty excited about his first paycheck a few weeks ago, so she suspected he was secretly wanting to earn himself a nice raise by picking up more skills around the shop.
He slipped away into the kitch
en, leaving Mary and Sweet Feet to man the front of the shop. Sweet Feet roamed about, searching for the best place to take his early morning nap. Eventually, he simmered down under one of the pink tables. “What am I going to do with that kid, Sweet Feet?” Mary asked, and the cat’s ears twitched ever so slightly in response.
The front door opened, and Mary perked up—ready to greet a customer. It was an elderly woman with a rather upbeat step for someone her age. She smiled brightly, showing off some well-kept white teeth. Her curly, permed hair sat upon her head in a perfect silvery tent. “So,” the woman said, grinning. “This is the famous Lily Pad Sweets I’ve been hearing so much about.” The old woman scurried over to the counter, eyeing the display shelves. “My granddaughter came in here a while back, then told me your cookies were almost as good as mine.”
“Oh dear,” Mary said, laughing.
“She’s nine—she doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” the woman said, winking. “Those must be them,” she said, pointing towards that morning’s sprinkle cookie batch Mary had done. “She told me that you had a special deal on them right now and that I just had to try one.”
“Coming right up,” Mary said, fetching the woman one of the jumbo sugar cookies with colorful sprinkles. “I switch up the specials about every other week or so.”
“Ambitious for a shop that just opened up over the summer,” the woman said, quickly paying and then taking the bagged cookie from Mary. “Honestly, sweets shops haven’t had a whole lot of luck around here, so I was pretty excited to see someone giving it a go. From what I hear, you’ve been doing well. You’re the owner, I’m assuming?” she asked, pulling the cookie from the bag and taking a bite.
“That’s right,” Mary said just as the woman let out a frustrated grunt.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “I think my granddaughter was being kind—these are better than my sugar cookies.”
Mary laughed. “Well, thank you,” Mary said.
The woman then pointed at a piece of chocolate fudge. “Might as well try it. Fudge is my real specialty,” the woman said, laughing.
Mary got the piece of fudge for her, and the woman paid and immediately took a bite. “Ha!” she said victoriously. “You’re good, really good, but I might have you beat on the fudge.”
Mary smirked. “I’ll admit the fudge is not my best.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, the fudge is fantastic,” the woman assured her. “What is your name, dear?”
“Mary Hopkins,” Mary said, and the woman insisted on shaking her hand.
“Ella May,” she said. “And, I’m interested in that sign you’ve got posted in your window.”
“Really?” Mary asked hopefully. She hadn’t had anyone put in an application yet, and it was a bit much to work the shop by herself most days.
“Well, don’t try to talk me out of it,” she said, pulling out a carefully rolled up application. “Printed this off your website.”
“Mind sitting and chatting?” Mary asked, and the woman happily followed Mary to one of the pink chairs.
Ella May was quite the feisty woman. She had been baking for her entire life as a hobby, “Like most Georgia ladies from my generation,” she had said. She had been a nurse back in the day, and she worked in the hospital as a receptionist during her later years before retiring about four years ago. “I thought I could handle retirement, but it’s not for me,” she said.
“I know the feeling,” Mary said. “I was a news reporter for most of my life, and I eventually retired from there, and now I’m running this shop.”
“Retired?” Ella May asked. “Darlin’ you look far too young to be retired.”
Mary laughed. “I appreciate that, really. News broadcasters, particularly the women, don’t last too long. We retire pretty young.”
“Why is that?” Ella Mary questioned.
“Honestly? We’re encouraged to. Got to get new, young women on camera,” Mary said and then pointed at her face. “My crow's feet were getting too hard for the makeup team to hide, and my boss started hinting pretty quick that I should consider retirement. Of course, he can’t exactly fire me for getting old, but they find a way.”
“That’s awful!” Ella May exclaimed.
“Oh, I was ready, believe me,” Mary said. “The shop is my next great adventure.”
“And that’s just what I’m looking for,” Ella May said. “Now, I’m sure you’re looking for someone younger who would be better about helping you with the heavy lifting, but—”
“That’s what my grandson is for,” Mary teased. “I need someone I can trust to help manage the place when I’m not here—and someone who can help with the baking. My grandson is good, but he can only handle so much in the kitchen.”
“I heard that!” a voice yelped from behind; Tripp was finally emerging from the kitchen. “First batch is cooled, and the second batch is back there on the cooling rack still.”
“Tripp, come here and meet Ella May. She’s putting in an application,” Mary said, and Tripp wandered over.
“How old are you?” Ella May asked.
“Fifteen,” Tripp said.
Ella May looked rather surprised by this. “My goodness, you do not have a fifteen-year-old grandson!”
“His mother was a bit young when she had him,” Mary said. “Well, Ella May, I think I have everything I need from you. It’ll probably be a few days, but you’ll definitely be getting a call from me.”
“Glad to hear it,” Ella May said and then reached into her purse, pulling out a small Tupperware dish. “This is for you to try. Thought it might help if you knew what this granny was capable of.” She laughed to herself before strutting out the door.
Mary, curious, opened up the container to see sugar cookies and fudge. She and Tripp had a bite of each, and Tripp smirked. “Her fudge is better than yours,” he said, and Mary playfully shoved him. He was right, though. Ella May’s fudge was amazing.
After she and Tripp playfully fought over the last of the fudge, Officer Preston came entering the shop. “Hey, Mary, got a sec?” he asked.
She stood up and approached him after sending Tripp to get the rest of the cookies in the back. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“I got some information from the forensic pathologist this morning,” he said. “Ken was dead before he hit the pavement.”
“Wait, seriously?” Mary asked. “I saw him standing upright on the roof… well… I think I did. It happened kind of fast.”
“That puncture wound in his neck the coroner saw—that’s what killed him,” Preston said. “Got his windpipe. There were some bruises on him in some weird places too—punches, probably. There were a lot more of those little puncture wounds on him as well. They’re really small. It’s kind of weird.”
“Sounds weird,” she said. “So, it’s not a knife?”
“No, too small,” he said. “Enough to do some serious damage, though. We’re not sure what kind of murder weapon we’re looking for; the crime scene unit didn’t find anything. I spoke with Jaden earlier, and she’s agreed to let me come and do a second sweep of the property. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I thought it would be a good idea if you tagged along. It sounds like you and Tripp know the family pretty well?”
“I guess,” Mary said. “We all hung out in Helen the weekend before school started back.”
“Would you be up for it?” he asked. “My buddy with the crime unit told me she’s being kind of difficult. I mean, I get it, her husband just died, but it’s a little hard for me to do my job if she won’t talk to me.”
“I think I can do that,” Mary said.
“Good,” he said. “I think you being there with me would make her a lot more comfortable.”
“Let me just go give Tripp a heads up,” Mary said. “Now that my ex has crawled back into his hole in LA, I don’t mind letting him watch the shop again.”
“Glad to hear it,” Preston said.
Mary told Tripp he was in charge of the sho
p for a bit and she and Preston dipped out to head back to the scene of the crime.
Chapter Nine
Mary and Preston arrived in the driveway of the Jaden’s home, and Mary felt instantly uncomfortable to be back here. The sinking feeling in her stomach was only made worse when she saw a horrid stain in the driveway where Ken had bled on the concrete. “Oh, that must be just awful for them to have to see—I hope they can get that removed,” Mary said, looking up as she walked to avoid having to see it for more than a second.
“We called someone in who is going to take care of it for them,” Preston said. “There is a group who specializes in that sort of thing.”
“Really? Professional cover-uppers or something?” Mary asked.
“Yeah, they specialize in cleaning up that sort of… mess…” Preston said, seeming to have wanted to search for a better word but had been unable to do so.
“I’d hate to be on that group’s bad side,” Mary said. “They would be great at covering up their own crimes.” Preston’s face contorted for a moment, and she laughed—realizing he had probably never thought of it that way. She shook her head, reminding herself she was about to be interviewing a freshly made widow and her son. She put on her serious face before Preston knocked on the door.
Jaden answered after only a moment. She didn’t look particularly well, but she did offer them a very slight smile. “Officer Preston. Mary,” she said, opening the door up a bit wider. “Come in.”
They entered into the house. Mary felt sad thinking about how lively this place had been less than twelve hours before—full of life. Young high schoolers running around, a handful of their parents chatting around the barbeque. Things had changed so dramatically in so little time. “Sorry about the mess,” Jaden said, though the place didn’t look half bad. “Nat and Lana were here earlier helping me clean up after the party yesterday, but they had an appointment with a client today that they had to get to.”
