Cinnamon Rolls & Cyanide

by Beth Byers

  “Oooh, now I want to swing over to London and have a big English tea. With clotted cream, crumpets, and jam.”

  We talked a bit more and then Mom said, “You know…I think that people slide into badness.”

  We ordered baklava and coffee and then Mom continued, “I mean. No one wakes up and says, I’d really like to kill someone today. Not normal people anyway. It a series of small decisions. Or an act of unadulterated rage that they probably immediately regret.”

  “This guy though,” I said with a sigh, “He was poisoning the victim slowly. Whoever did this made that decision over and over and over again.”

  “Be that as it may, I bet the decision was one of rage. Or maybe vengeance. Or even twisted justice.”

  “Let’s change the subject,” I said.

  We left the restaurant and wandered through Pioneer Place. It was a different experience shopping with my mom now that we had money. Only a year ago, both of us were struggling financially. The change in our lives was a gift that I had never expected.

  “I need to remember how lucky I am,” I told Mom.

  “Whatever do you mean, Rosemary?”

  “I mean that even if The 2nd Chance Diner fails or things fall apart with Simon or my friends, we are still so lucky. I don't have to work a job I hate anymore. I have not just what I need but what I want. I have you.”

  “You’ll always have me, love,” Mom said.

  We walked through the store, taking the escalator in the middle of Pioneer Place down to the ground level for coffee and then made our way through little boutique after little boutique. I found myself thinking of Simon more than me and my purchases were all for him without even realizing it.

  “You really love him, don’t you?” Mom asked as we loaded the bags into the back of my car and made our way back towards Gresham where she’d purchased her pretty little house. She hadn’t upgraded when she’d been flooded with cash. She’d said she loved her place with or without money and that money didn’t change the memories that had been built there.

  “I love him so much it’s terrifying,” I confessed.

  NINE

  “What was your mom like?” I asked Zee after we worked through the business rush. We were getting in my car to head over to Lincoln City to meet George’s mom.

  “Was?” Zee said, glancing at me from the passenger seat and then laughed. “I know I’m older than you, but I’m not at death’s door. My mom is still kicking around. She’s uptight, British, and elegantly snarky.”

  I turned onto Highway 101, enjoying the sight of a few deer off the freeway. I hoped they’d stay safe with the thicker Summer traffic.

  “Elegantly snarky?” I asked after I reached highway speed and headed south.

  “She’s very proper,” Zee sighed. “Too proper for me. I think I embarrass her a little. But she loves me. I see her often enough. She comes every summer, so you’ll meet her. She’ll probably tell you how to dress, to do your hair, and make you something very British like a proper English pudding or boiled beef.”

  “Not fish and chips?”

  “Well, according to Mum, we don’t do those very well, but at least they’re fresh.”

  I laughed. We ended up talking about the menu, the lawyer, and Roberta until we reached Lincoln City. Mrs. Lavender lived in a small house a few blocks off the beach. When we reached it, I was so surprised I checked the address two times.

  But this was it…

  George’s house in Silver Falls was a cute little cape cod with manicured grass and a profusion of spring flowers.

  “What in the world?” Zee breathed as she opened the car door and got out of her seat. We had to take a minute to take in the scene before us. There was a 70s station wagon, complete with wood paneling in the front yard. It didn’t have tires on it, and there seemed to be something growing through the front seat.

  When I was able to look past that monstrosity, I found a pile of old paint cans sitting right next to the house.

  “Surely that’s a fire hazard,” I said, pointing. The grass was nearly to the height of the white picket fence. If you could even call it that. The fence was more like the remnants of something, like the skeleton that gave off an idea of what it had once been rather than what it was supposed to be. The wood was only white in patches and it was falling down in entire sections. Someone had flipped those back into Mrs. Lavender’s yard, so they weren’t on the sidewalk. Whenever that had happened, so much time had passed that the sections of fallen fence were overgrown. It would be necessary to weed just to pull up the trash that was the remains of the fencing.

  The path that led from the gate to the front door was still there though weeds pressed in on either side. The gate itself was hanging on by a solitary hinge and stood cockeyed to the path.

  “I’m surprised someone hasn’t complained about this,” Zee said.

  There was very little of the Oregon Coast towns that were legitimately a bad area, but this neighborhood might be as close as they got. Most of the houses had a large number of cars parked in and around them. Mrs. Lavender’s home certainly wasn’t the only one with an overgrown yard, though hers was the worst.

  Zee walked up the path first. As they moved a rodent skittered across the path and I found myself yelping like a little kid.

  The porch was, thankfully, not up steps because the cement was cracked and broken. If it had been wood, it would have just been holes and broken planks. Zee pounded on the door.

  No reply.

  I looked at Zee, and she shrugged at me. We hadn’t called first, maybe it was a wasted drive?

  “She’s in there,” a kid said from the sidewalk.

  “How do you know?” Zee countered, putting her hands on her hips.

  “She don’t never leave,” the kids said. He held an old scooter in his hands and was riding without a helmet. I was tempted to tell him how dangerous that was, but I suspected he wouldn’t care. Given the state of his jeans and too small t-shirt, his parents probably couldn’t afford a helmet.

  “But she’s not answering the door,” I said.

  He scoffed at me, snorted rudely, and then said, “She ain’t gonna answer it. She’s real old.”

  “You know this kid, Zee?” I asked.

  She shot me a look, and I explained.

  “You heard him snort didn’t you? That’s like your own personal language.”

  Zee elbowed me and then said, “So how do people visit her.”

  “No one much visits her,” the kid said.

  “What about her son or grandsons?”

  “Nah, not even them. They bring food here and there and Miss Inga goes over every day or so and makes sure she’s eating and ain’t dead.”

  Zee’s brows rose at that and I could see little spots of color forming. She was furious. This kid may not know what George lived like—before he was murdered—but we did.

  Zee tried the handle and it opened.

  “My Ma would prolly think it was weird that a couple of strangers were going in there.”

  “Then come with us,” I said. “You can keep an eye on us and Mrs. Lavender and make sure we don’t take advantage of her.”

  The kid shot me a look and said, “My Ma probably wouldn’t much like that either.”

  “I’ll give you $20.00 to come in and make sure we treat her ok,” I said again. “Or you can go get your mom and have her watch us. We just want to make sure she’s ok.”

  The kid’s brows shot up into his hair and he breathed, “Hooo-eee. Twenty bucks?”

  I nodded.

  He got a crafty look and said, “I won’t do it for less than $40.00.”

  “You little con-artist,” Zee snarled.

  “Twenty and a new helmet,” I countered.

  “Twenty and a new scooter,” he said.

  I nodded. He’d be getting a helmet too. I could only hope he’d wear it.

  He came up to the house and we opened the door. It creaked horror movie loud and I felt my heart race. The place
was so disheveled I wouldn’t have been surprised to find the woman dead with rodents living in her flesh. The mere idea of it had me gagging.

  I took a second step and the smell hit me.

  “Oh my heavens,” I breathed. The foyer was stacked high with mail, newspapers, and trash. The area was nasty. The walls had yellowed and the house smelled like old garbage, spoiled milk, and human waste.

  “Ew,” the kid said. I took his arm as Zee peeked into the living room. A TV was running, but if Mrs. Lavender was dead, I didn’t want the kid to see it.

  “Hey there,” Zee said.

  “Eh?” A woman croaked.

  I let go of the kid and followed Zee into the room. Mrs. Lavender’s hair was white, but it had yellowed with filth. She was sitting in an armchair that smelled of urine, and I could see that her adult diapers hadn’t been changed in at least a day or two.

  Zee cursed as I stared.

  “That you Georgie?”

  I closed my eyes at that.

  “Did you say that the money George was using was his mom’s?”

  Zee nodded silently.

  “We…have to do something,” I said. I crossed to Mrs. Lavender and checked her over. An empty soup bowl sat on a TV tray next to her arm chair. Her wrist was bruised, but I couldn’t tell if she’d just hurt herself or if someone had hurt her.

  “Kid,” I said, “You said someone comes and checks on her?”

  Zee lifted one of those insulated water bottles and shook it. It clinked with ice.

  “The ice in these only lasts, maybe a day,” Zee told me. “I have one.”

  I breathed slowly out. Not just because of the smell but because of the anger. I had thought I could kill George for stealing my recipes. But…he’d used his mom’s money and left her like this. Of all the no-good, low-down, being burned in hell things, this was it.

  “We need to call the police,” Zee said. “Mrs. Lavender looks messed up. Maybe dehydrated. And her shoulder isn’t sitting right. I think it might be dislocated.”

  I hadn’t noticed that until Zee said it. I nodded and pulled out my phone. As I made the call, the kid stepped outside. He was crying at the sight.

  While he did, I also called Simon and told him what I’d found. He knew the police officers who worked in Lincoln City. He would make sure that someone would come and take care of Mrs. Lavender properly.

  “This is elder abuse,” Zee said. “I bet she has no idea that George was using her money for his restaurant.”

  “His kids did, though.” I left Zee with Mrs. Lavender, asked the kid which house he lived in, and told him. “You stay until the police come and we’ll ask them if they need to talk to you. But stay at the gate…ok?”

  The kid nodded and I said, “What’s your name, buddy?”

  “B-B-Brian,” he stuttered, the tears still rolling down his face.

  “What you saw today was pretty terrible,” I told him. “But we’re going to make sure that Mrs. Lavender gets taken care of.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise,” I said.

  A police car arrived and before the officer had even got out of the car an ambulance arrived.

  “Rosemary Baldwin?”

  I nodded and crossed to the cop with Brian. I recapped what had happened and what we found, and the police officer sent Brian home.

  “Good little kid,” Officer Matthews said.

  I nodded. The emotions were hitting me then and my hands started to shake.

  “It’s bad in there,” I said. “It smells, and she’s sitting in filth, and the place is…a garbage dump might be better.”

  “We’ve got a social worker that specializes in the elderly coming to help us out. We’re gonna take care of Mrs. Lavender.”

  “I just…I’m so angry,” I told him. “I could murder her son all over again for this.”

  “You and me both,” Officer Matthews replied. “You and me both.”

  Zee stayed with Mrs. Lavender until she was taken to the hospital. When I was free to go, I found the local store and bought Brian a helmet, a new scooter, and got him his cash. He answered the door and then said, “I don’t need anything for that. I didn’t like that I never saw her. I shoulda said something. It’s my fault.”

  His mom stepped up behind him at the door and watched without saying a word.

  I had to take a step back before I squatted down and asked, “How old are you, Brian?”

  “Nine,” he said fiercely.

  “Do you know how old her son was?”

  Brian shook his head.

  “Her son was older than me,” I told Brian. “Old enough to know better and to make sure his mom was ok. It’s not your fault he didn’t do that. And it’s not my fault that he didn’t do that.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” Brian swore. “He should…he should…go to jail for this. Or something worse. Someone should make him pay.”

  It wasn’t my place to tell Brian that someone had made him pay. I’d just try to let his mom know and leave it to her to explain it to him. I honestly had no idea what a kid could handle or not.

  “This is too much,” his mom said, gesturing to the scooter.

  “Maybe,” I replied, “But I can do it, and I’d like to. Please let me.”

  His mother hesitated while her son looked up at her with wide-pleading eyes and then she nodded.

  “Maybe I could talk to you for a moment outside?”

  Brian’s mom followed me out the door and then she said, “I don’t really know what to say to you.”

  “I don’t know how to apologize for what happened today,” I told her. “Brian was being protective of his neighbor, and I had no idea that he’d see that.”

  “Yeah well…” She glanced to the side and then admitted, “I’m not a huge fan of the woman who goes and checks on her. She doesn’t do it for money. Just out of the kindness of her heart, but…she should have been the one who called the police.”

  “You won’t get any arguments from me about that,” I said.

  “It’s just hard. You know? It’s just me and Brian and I can’t afford much. We…”

  I took a deep breath and said, “If you’d be interested in moving to Silver Falls, come see me at The 2nd Chance Diner. We’re desperate for help. There are some pretty nice places for cheap on the non-beach side of town. Or maybe just swing by if you’d like to have dinner on us. We’d love to give you some homecoming and a slice of cake or two.”

  Brian’s mom nodded and then said, “Well I don't know about that, but thank you for taking care of Madeline and thank you for what you did for Brian.”

  “Listen,” I said, glancing around for Brian before I told his mom about George’s murder. I left her, eyes wide with shock, and crossed the street to get my car. Zee had ridden with Mrs. Lavender to the hospital where they’d promptly kicked her out. It was past time to pick her up and go home.

  TEN

  “Do you think that things like that are happening in Silver Falls?”

  Zee considered and then said, “Maybe. I’d like to think it wouldn’t get that bad without someone seeing what has happening, but really…the stealing part wouldn’t be that hard. George had to just be taking money from his mom or getting her to write checks. He probably thought he deserved it because he was going to get the money in the end.”

  “I’d almost be able to understand,” I said as I merged back onto Highway 101, “if he’d also been taking care of his mom. My mom gave me the money to open The 2nd Chance Diner by giving my inheritance from her parents the second she got it. She didn’t have to do that. It isn’t that part that bothers me so much as how neglected she was. And how she had money to pay for help if her son hadn’t taken it.”

  Zee sighed. She was messaging on her phone as I drove and talking with me at the same time. I was betting she was messaging either Roberta or Carver, but I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to hear about lovey messages between her and Carver if that is what she was doing.

  “
I talked to Simon for a few minutes when I was buying the scooter for little Brian,” I said. “He promised that the police officers would arrest George’s boy there in town and find out what was happening. He also said the investigator for elder abuse cases was really good. The accounts would be frozen and she’d be moved into a place that would take good care of her.”

  “That’s good at least,” Zee said. She sounded glum which was how I felt. I couldn’t even process what I’d seen in association with how nice George’s place was and how much money he’d poured into his diner.

  It would have been one thing if she hadn’t been checked on since he died, but I couldn’t even countenance that given that he had two adult sons. But even if you gave them that much leeway…the house still had years of neglect. Years of overgrown grass and at least weeks of trash not being taken out. The smelled of spoilt milk didn’t happen in the few days since her son had died.

  “You know,” Zee said as we passed through Neskowin, “that was something worth killing over.”

  I thought on what she said. The sun was lower in the sky and the cloud cover mixed with the tall trees left the road darker than you’d expect. Given the deer I’d seen earlier that day, I was driving carefully. I didn’t want to hit Bambi, his mom, or his dad.

  “So…” I mused, “If you were a grandson, perhaps, who saw Grandma being stolen blind and left in her filth while Dad blew through Grandma’s money, maybe you decided to kill him slowly? Prevent him from taking any more from Grandma and maybe get her some help?”

  Zee nodded and I shrugged. It was possible. There were holes in it, but if you’d been raised by George Lavender who would do that to his own mother, maybe you had a skewed sense of right and wrong. Or maybe you were using the morals that you’d picked up despite George Lavender. It would make sense that they’d be a little shady.

  The 2nd Chance Diner was closed when they reached it, but Simon was waiting near the doors. He kissed my cheek when he saw me since it had been more than a day.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi.” He cupped my cheek and pulled me close. I was sure he could see the heartbreak on my face as he hugged me tight.