Belle had stopped halfway down the lawn and was holding her hand over her eyes like a visor. Her black sweater stood out against the cool, soft colors of very early spring.
It was a misty day, fresh, with a cool morning breeze, but the sun was beginning to break out in small bright streaks.
Belle moved finally, walking toward a little wood patio that flanked the riverside. A small dock, about twelve feet long, extended from it to the water. Taylor followed her.
The earthy, wet air of the riverbank smelled wholesome, like childhood. Taylor was glad that was the last thing her mom had known. This peaceful, good place.
“There isn’t any crime tape,” Belle said, almost under her breath.
They all knew why. Officially, it had been an accident.
“It’s a pretty old deck.” Taylor’s eyes were glued to the weathered wood and the gaps between boards. “Did you see Mom’s new shoes? Think she could have gotten tripped up out here?”
Belle squinted at the wooden planks. “Probably. They were funny, old fashioned looking things. Kitten heels. Short, but pointy.”
The three of them walked to the edge of the dock. Taylor looked upriver, Belle looked down, and Maddie watched Belle.
“Not a lot of rocks.” Belle slipped her foot out of her canvas loafer and dipped her toe in the water. “She’d have had to fall just right.”
“Or just wrong.” There were three large granite stones at the edge of the water. They looked to be ornamental, since this wasn’t a granite kind of area. “Those must have been it, huh?”
“But how did she drown?” Belle shoved her hands in the pockets of her high-waisted mom jeans.
“There’s enough water.” Taylor reached for Belle, as though she didn’t want her to fall too, but she let her hand hover next to her, not touching. “If she was knocked unconscious, face down, it wouldn’t take much water.”
Belle was dragging her toe back and forth in the greenish water, her eyes on the rocks.
Taylor turned to the house. Two stories of windows faced the river. The ground floor was under the shade of an upstairs deck, but it seemed like her mom’s friends should have been able to see her, maybe even hear her fall. “No, it was dark,” Taylor said it out loud, a non-sequitur, but Belle and Maddie followed her thought.
“And there aren’t any lights beyond the backdoor patio.” Belle pointed at the outdoor lamps that flanked the paver patio that was under the deck. “They might have seen her as she walked this way, but not once she got down here.”
The lawn between the patio and the river was long. At least two thousand feet. Most of the acreage at this bed and breakfast was out there in the back. You could see the water from the house, but not after dark.
“So, it was possible.” Taylor knelt and touched the boards. “With those shoes on, and even a little bit tipsy, she could have tripped.”
There was a crack in one board. A thin gash of fresh wood in the otherwise aged silver cedar. “Right here,” Taylor whispered.
Belle crouched beside her. “That must be where her shoe got stuck.”
They stared at it together. Evidence of the accident. Evidence that Belle wasn’t responsible for anything.
“And then she fell,” Maddie offered, one hand on her shoulder.
“Or she was pushed,” Belle said. “Both Melinda and Amara said Colleen went out too. Maybe Mom’s shoe got stuck when Colleen pushed her.”
“Oh, Belle…” Maddie didn’t seem to be a dedicated detective. This little cracked board seemed to satisfy her curiosity.
But it didn’t satisfy Taylor, because if Colleen wasn’t the one who pushed her mom into the water that night, then she might be able to push Belle out of their house.
Taylor sat crosslegged on the dock. “While I’m sure the police have talked to everyone, I’d like to talk to the lady that owns this place.” She dug around in Google till she found the website for the Riverside Getaway. Owner, Andrea Millson.
Taylor tapped the phone icon and, to her surprise, Andrea answered right away. “Are there any vacancies?” Taylor asked as soon as the lady who answered was done with the commercial welcome.
“We have quite a few spring dates available.”
It was only Tuesday. Wednesday and Thursday wouldn’t be too busy at the shop. Roxy could handle it. “I’d like a double occupancy room for tomorrow night for my sister and me.”
“Ah! That should be two rooms then. We don’t have twin bed rooms here, but I tell you what, I’ll give you a two for one deal. We’ve had a…well, we’ve had some cancelations.”
Taylor gave her name and phone number.
“Quinn?” Andrea said in hushed tones.
“Yes. Laura Quinn is my mother. My sister and I need closure.”
Andrea cleared her throat. “I’m not so sure…”
“We are. Please let us come.”
Belle stared at Taylor, but Maddie was watching the road. A pickup truck had pulled into the parking area.
“All right. You can come.”
“Make it three rooms.” Maddie interjected.
“Is there a third room available?”
“Yes, Miss Quinn. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks.”
Andrea didn’t ask for a credit card over the phone. Taylor was glad since she wasn’t sure she had one she could use. She needed to run to the bank in Willamina and find out what her mom’s finances were like. It was on the to do list, but so many things were.
The door to the pickup slammed shut and a tall, broad shouldered man sauntered down their direction.
When he was in hollering distance, Taylor waved.
He waved back and joined them on the dock.
“Can I help you all?” Hudson East, the infamous Brandy’s good looking son.
Taylor stood. “No, we were just…. Had you heard about Mom?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” He offered her his hand, and when Taylor took it, he enveloped hers in two muscled and rough hands. “Are you all right?”
“No.” She looked away from his rugged face with the dimpled chin.
Belle stared at him. He was a far cry from the peach fuzz of her friend Cooper. She seemed impressed.
Hudson had been a freshman in high school when Taylor was a senior, but he was still far too old for her teenage sister. “My aunt saw you and called me.”
Taylor looked back at the house, shivering. Had Andrea been watching us?
“She’s been staying with my grandma the last few days, but saw some activity via the security camera feed. She just wanted me to check it out.”
“I totally understand.”
“So…all’s good?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and scanned the property.
“We were just leaving. Your aunt gave us a few bedrooms for tomorrow night. We, um, want to say goodbye.”
He nodded, and they all walked back to their cars. “I’ll see you then.”
“Oh?” Taylor asked.
“Aunt Andrea’s not up to staying here yet, so breakfast will be on me.” He grinned. “Hope you like bacon and sausage and eggs. I do a mean fry up.”
Belle blushed and fluttered her eyelashes.
Taylor wouldn’t have wanted to admit it, but she did too.
* * *
Roxy was willing to open and close on Wednesday and Thursday. Willing and eager to support and help seemed to be her wheelhouse. Taylor gave her Saturday off to compensate, but knew full well it wasn’t enough. She would have to figure out some way to make sure Roxy knew how much her years of loyalty and hard work meant to her.
Taylor explained the plan as she and Belle packed their bags. “Why is it you don’t work at the shop?” Taylor tried not to sound judgmental.
Belle looked over at Grandpa who was adjusting framed pictures in the hallway outside her door.
Taylor understood the simple gesture. Grandpa was Belle’s afterschool job.
But she hadn’t remembered he might need someone here with him while they
were gone overnight. “Crap.”
“It’s fine.” Belle unzipped the bag she had just finished. “You and Maddie go. I’ll stay here.” She sighed. It was clearly not fine.
“Maybe Maddie will stay with Grandpa.”
“I’m not a child,” Grandpa interjected. “And I will be just fine while you girls go off to drink and talk.”
“We won’t be drinking.”
“Good. Your sister’s not old enough.” He shuffled back downstairs, tipping framed pictures as he went. Taylor suspected he liked their company better than being alone, but still wished he wouldn’t use the stairs quite so often. He wasn’t as steady on his feet as she would have liked.
“Maybe it would be better if you and Maddie went.” Maddie was, after all, the professional. Better her and Belle for the weekend, then Belle and Taylor who felt completely out of her depth.
Belle brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Really? Do you mean it?”
Taylor swallowed. She was already sorry for suggesting it, but what option did she have? “I mean it. Let me give her a call.” She had to leave a message and made it brief.
Belle finished packing while Taylor made dinner.
An hour later Maddie called back, and they sorted out the details. She promised she’d keep Belle from doing anything stupid in re handsome Hudson, but she wouldn’t swear the same thing for herself. That was the first hint of the goofy Maddie Taylor used to know. It was like finally seeing an old friend again. Taylor reminded her of Mr. Dr. Maddie who would be waiting loyally for her at home. Maddie laughed.
* * *
The next morning, Maddie picked up Belle and they drove the winding country roads to the little bed and breakfast on the river.
“Well, Grandpa, I guess we’d better get to the shop.”
“Good girl,” he said. “Work first and you’ll never want.”
Taylor sighed. He’d had a lot of work first through the years, and yet, right now, he wanted for a lot, including his daughter, his wife, and his short-term memory.
Roxy jumped with a start when Taylor hollered a hello from the back door. “Did something happen? Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Just a small change in schedule and, since I was home still, I figured I might as well work.”
They had a tiny smattering of midweek customers. Only three in fact, including Taylor’s Aunt Carrie with her newest kid in a stroller. She didn’t buy anything but did hint around trying to find out if Laura had always been a drunk.
It was a bright, rain free day and the tulips were all in bloom, but they had no customers. Taylor knew she’d have to formulate a marketing plan. See what kind of co-op deal she could run with the three other quilt stores, just as soon as she’d shored up her sister during her time of trial. In the meantime, the empty store was wearing her down. “Grandpa, I know you won’t like this, but I think I’m heading out early. I still haven’t taken care of Mom’s business at the bank,”
He grunted and stood up from his chair. “Then let’s get going.”
“You don’t have to come.”
“You think that bank in Willamina is just going to hand you all Laura’s money?”
“Not exactly, but the will…”
He barked a short laugh again. “We’ll see what they think about the will. You never can tell with these financial institutions.”
Taylor smiled and helped him into the rusty tweed suit jacket he never left home without. “I’d rather have your company anyway.”
The bank in Willamina was a local branch of the Old Mill Credit Union, a tiny little low slung building from the seventies with heavy cedar shingles hanging low over the dark windows. Three tellers stood waiting for customers, and an elderly lady with a bright pink walker stood at a side desk filling out small check-sized papers. Taylor didn’t know the teller who they talked to, or the higher-up who had to come Taylor realized she had forgotten a copy of the death certificate.
Grandpa, however, was a cosigner on the account, so they were able to ascertain that Laura Quinn had over three-hundred-thousand dollars in her business savings, not including the account for regular shop expenses.
Taylor stared at the statement in shock. Flour Sax was just a little fabric store in a tiny little town off the beaten path. Taylor had grown up with free lunches and hand-me-down clothes, even when her dad was still living.
“How?” Taylor couldn’t make more than one word come out.
Grandpa pointed to the deposits on the statement. “Her boob tube show. Now will you start filming again?”
Taylor needed to sit down.
But she didn’t. She stood strong and pretended she was perfectly happy that their family fortune now rested in her ability to be charming on the internet.
“You’d better get home and figure out what your mom was doing, because she was doing it real good.”
“When you come back with your death certificate, we’ll get this all sorted out. We can make an appointment, if you’d like.” The bank manager, whose nametag said “John”, was another of the broad shouldered handsome types like Hudson. Grandsons of the loggers the area used to be thick with. A kind smile and soft eyes gave him a different, easy going look though. Taylor liked it. Why had she not noticed the wealth of manly men in this area when she lived here?
Taylor took a long deep breath. “Thank you. I’ll get this sorted out as quickly as I can.” She glanced at John’s hands. No ring or tan line where a ring used to be.
On the drive home Grandpa broke into a tsk-tsk. “Clay won’t like it when he hears you’re looking at rich men’s wedding fingers.”
“Rich men?”
“Bankers. They’ve always got money.”
That part hadn’t even occurred to her. Taylor was not sorry that John, the one to talk to for business and investment banking might be rich. “Clay dumped me, Grandpa.”
“Oh? Never did like him. Mealy-mouthed.”
“You’re probably right.” Taylor, however, had liked him very much, and for quite a few years. She still couldn’t believe it was over. It had been less than two weeks since his ultimatum, and it seemed impossible, the sweet, goofy guy she had been with for so long, would break up with her just because she needed to move home to take care of Belle. He had always been a good guy. A nice guy.
When they got home, she hunted high and low for her mom’s death certificate. When she had literally run out of places to check, she called the funeral home and left a message. The funeral director was almost as old as Grandpa, but he’d know what she needed to do.
Then Taylor called Belle, just to check in. No answer there, so she called Maddie, but she only reached the very professional and caring sounding voicemail.
Taylor hoped that Maddie and Belle were having a very healthy counselor-client-detective time. As she made a simple dinner of macaroni and ham slices for herself and Grandpa Ernie, she tried to squash her envy. She could not be jealous of every person who got to hang out with Belle. It wasn’t healthy.
She also considered not opening the store the next morning. She certainly didn’t need the money, but she supposed Roxy did, and her needs mattered too.
Chapter Six
Taylor was washing up dinner dishes when Grandma Quinny called. “You forgot us.”
Grandma was right. In the middle of her play-detective plans for Belle, Taylor had completely forgotten the dinner party Grandma was throwing. “Oh Grandma, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She dropped a slippery pot in the soapy sink.
“It’s only seven. You could still come by for dessert. We’re serving your favorite, strawberry scones.”
Grandma’s strawberry scones with freshly whipped cream were a definite draw. “Belle’s not here tonight.”
“That’s fine, love. The cousins all want to see you.”
Taylor gritted her teeth. Was it impossible to make her grandma see her and Belle as a package deal?
“Grandpa Ernie’s having a bit of a lie down.”
<
br /> “And that’s all right as well. If he’s sleeping, he’ll be fine for an hour or two. Come see your cousins.” Grandma Quinny was begging now, her voice pathetic with want.
“Give me five minutes to make myself presentable.”
It took a little longer than five minutes to sort out her hair and face and find something nice to replace the clothes she had gotten wet while washing up.
Grandma and Grandpa Quinn farmed their strawberries off Bible Creek Road, not far from the creek itself. Vine maples, sword fern, birch, and red alder framed the curving road. The sun was just starting to set, and the dusty orange tint above the tree line warmed her heart. There were brief moments when it was so nice to be home, she almost forgot why she was here.
Grandma and Grandpa’s house had been built in the ‘90s, not long after Taylor was born. It had all the dormers and decorations the bed and breakfast had, but none of the charm that only comes with age. They grew strawberries on their five acres every spring, and the rest of the time they played chicken farmer. It wasn’t much by way of a money-making industry, but it was the kind of retirement you’d expect from a reformed yuppy and his college professor wife. Grandma Quinny had taught what few business classes Comfort College of Art and Craft had once offered. She was a smart, funny teacher, but tough.
On long summer evenings their property was usually crawling with grandkids. There was a dozen of them—make that a baker’s dozen with Aunt Carrie’s newest. But the gentle rolling hillside was quiet tonight. Early April was a little chilly for the adults to sit out and, anyway, there were only two other cars in the long driveway when Taylor arrived.
Taylor let herself in and followed the sounds of chattering voices to the kitchen. Grandma and Aunt Susan were plating dessert while Grandpa, Uncle Sean, and her cousins Ellery and Reid played pinochle.
“Oh good. You made it. We had about given up.” Aunt Susan passed her a plate. “It’s too late to join the game.”
“That’s all right.” Taylor sat with the card sharks at the table.
Assault and Batting Page 6
