Strangulation & Strawberry Cake

by Nancy McGovern

  Rachel felt the chill travel farther down her spine. "If she divorced — if Uncle Jordan knew she was planning to divorce him — he'd have taken the company from her. Was that what Aunt Bethany feared?"

  "It's possible." Aunt Paris smiled. "I won't say no. Mama's no fool. If she spent her money on the company, I'm sure she structured ownership accordingly."

  "But that's horrible,” Rachel said. "Aunt Bethany's spent her life on that company. So did her father."

  Aunt Paris pursed her lips. "The point is, she was making a midnight call to some strange man. If she thought Johnny Hayes was going to spill her secrets to Mama, she might have killed him for it."

  Hard as it was for her to admit, Rachel had to concede that Aunt Paris was right. Aunt Bethany did have a motive. "But why didn't you tell?" Rachel asked. "If you'd heard this…how long ago?"

  "A week ago."

  "Well, why didn't you tell Jordan or Grandma Mallory? Or the police?”

  "Oh...well...I..." Aunt Paris sighed. "I suppose I just didn't think it was right. I mean, I wanted to think it over. I don't like Bethany but what if she was just venting and it didn't mean anything? I'd be potentially ruining her life if I told Mama. I couldn't do that."

  There it was. That weird dichotomy. Aunt Paris was an essentially good person. She didn't want to harm Aunt Bethany herself. Yet she was willing to stand passively by and watch her mother do whatever she wanted. Rachel sighed. She could understand Aunt Paris' psychology a little bit. To Aunt Paris, Grandma Mallory was like a force of nature. So, even though Aunt Paris had her own moral code, Grandma Mallory was completely exempt from it. After all, you can't teach a hurricane morality. No matter what her mother did, Aunt Paris would love her anyway. Rachel watched with cold eyes as Aunt Paris scooped up the last bits of cake and smacked her lips.

  "So, that's what you think happened?" Rachel asked. "Bethany killed Johnny so that your mother wouldn't find out about her planning a divorce and snatch the company away in retaliation?"

  Aunt Paris nodded. "Indeed. That's my theory. Then again, it's only a theory. One can never be sure of anything. Poor Johnny Hayes. If only dead men could tell tales."

  *****

  Chapter 12

  Cooperation

  Scott didn't come down for breakfast that day.

  "Five minutes past eight." Grandma Mallory scowled at the clock. "Where is that brat?"

  "He's a grown man, mother,” Uncle Sidney protested. "You mustn't call him brat."

  "I'll call him what he is,” Grandma said. "Why, I remember him as a little boy, constantly whining for his mother. He was most unpleasant."

  "And were your children all very independent from a young age?" Rachel asked, working hard to keep the sarcasm from completely dominating her voice.

  "My children knew how to behave,” Grandma Mallory said, her tone frigid. "Except Scott's mother, Florence. Do you remember, Paris? How she insisted on listening to those cheap rock n' roll bands? She was a born troublemaker.”

  Instead of answering, Aunt Paris took a rather large bite of her croissant and gave her mother a closed-lipped smile. Swallowing, she said, "I liked some of those bands, mother. Ah, but time passes so fast. They're considered classics these days."

  "Nonsense!" Grandma Mallory exclaimed. "There hasn't been a classic band since The Beatles.”

  “Yes, my kind of music,” Uncle Sidney said loyally.

  "Ha!" Grandma Mallory snorted. "You always liked crazy things. You and your modern art, for example. Phooey."

  Tyler snorted with laughter and tried to hide it by pressing a napkin to his face. Grandma Mallory turned a malevolent eye upon him.

  "You have something to say, young man?" she asked.

  "No, Grandma." Tyler was trying to keep his face composed, but a corner of his lip seemed to keep creeping upwards. Rachel saw that his eyes were a little red and got a sinking feeling in her stomach — he had gotten stoned before breakfast! She hoped for his sake that he wouldn’t get busted by his grandmother.

  “Come on, Tyler,” Aunt Paris said. If you have an opinion, let’s hear it. We're all friends here."

  "Friends. Friends..." Tyler began braying with uncontrollable laughter. "That's what we are? Friends?" He clutched his sides and threw back his head, the giggles pouring out of him.

  "Tyler!" Uncle Sidney knocked back his chair as he stood up. "What's wrong with you, son. Stop that insane laughter this instant!”

  Tyler nodded and sat still, his face suddenly serious. Rachel gave a sigh of relief. Then she saw his lips creeping upward again. He bowed his head a little as a chuckle escaped him.

  "Oh, no,” Rachel thought. "The entire family's going to know now."

  "Tyler!” There was a warning note in Uncle Sidney's voice, but it only acted as a prod. Tyler burst out laughing again, tears springing from his eyes as he let loose.

  "Mental,” Grandma Mallory muttered. "The boy's absolutely mental. No need for a DNA check, Sidney. He's your son, alright. Totally cuckoo."

  If Rachel hadn't known the side effects of weed, she'd have agreed with Grandma. As it was, she could only bite down hard on her lip — Tyler's laughter was fairly contagious. Around the table, she saw Aunt Paris grinning, while Uncle Jordan chuckled. Only Aunt Bethany looked disinterested. She was staring down at her plate, her eyelids clearly heavy.

  Zizka walked into this scene, her usually placid face pale with worry. "Mrs Mallory, the police are here. Captain Walter wants—“

  "About time. Show them in. They better have some news about what's going on,” Grandma Mallory grumbled.

  "Mrs. Mallory, th-they said they're planning to take him in for questioning,” Zizka said.

  "Take who in?" Grandma Mallory sat up straight.

  The door widened and Captain Walter of the Bertford Police Department walked into the room. A deputy stood at his side, hand on his gun.

  "Tyler Mutton?" Captain Walter addressed the young man.

  Tyler nodded, then threw back his head and let out hoots of laughter once again. "M-me? I'm Tyler. Oh, gosh. I'm Tyler. Mutton. Tyyyy-lerrr Muuuuton. That’s a funny sounding name.”

  "Tyler Mutton, would you willingly come with us down to the station for some questions? We'd advise you to cooperate fully."

  "Wait a minute." Uncle Sidney planted himself between Tyler and the captain. "What's this? What's going on? My son hasn't done anything.”

  "Sid,” Captain Walter rubbed a thumb over his eyebrows. "Look, it's no use making a ruckus. Let's just do this as quietly as possible."

  "Jeremy Tobias Walter." Grandma Mallory's voice was an ice-bath. "You'll speak to me when you're in my house. What is this nonsense?"

  "Ma'am, we're just doing our duty,” Captain Walter said, his voice calm.

  "Your father was foreman at our factory, you know,” Grandma Mallory said. "Had a nasty habit of cooking the books a bit in his own favor and thinking I didn't notice. I did."

  Captain Walter only smiled, trying not to let her affect him.

  "I have proof of it, too,” Grandma Mallory continued. "It'll be in my old ledgers somewhere. Believe you me.”

  "Mrs. Mallory, I'd advise you to not interfere in our work,” Captain Walter said calmly. His smile was a grimace, barely covering his distaste for her.

  "And I'd advise you, Jerry, not to interfere with my family,” Grandma Mallory shot back. "Unless you have definite proof that Tyler's the killer, you're not taking him anywhere."

  "I never accused him,” Captain Walter pointed out. "I just want to take him down for some further questioning."

  “Hear me clearly. No member of the Mutton family is going to be seen at that dingy office of yours,” Grandma Mallory said. "If you want to question him or anyone else, do it here."

  "What's he done?" Uncle Sid's eyes were wide and his body shaking. "My son is innocent! Why are you doing this?"

  "Dad,” Tyler seemed to have sobered down a little as the reality of the situation hit him. "Look, relax, Dad. I'm sure it'
ll be fine."

  "Tyler didn't kill Johnny Hayes!" Uncle Sid exclaimed. "He was with me the entire time. You hear that? The entire time! Tell them, son. Why are you so quiet? Tell them!"

  "Dad, relax.“ Tyler gave his father a one armed hug. “They aren't arresting me."

  "I know that look on Captain Walter's face,” Uncle Sidney said. "Mama, call a lawyer. Please. These policemen can't be trusted. They'll force a confession or something out of Tyler just to close the books on this…“

  Captain Walter gave an audible groan. "Could you stop it, Sid? There's really no need for all this drama.”

  "What's going on?" Scott entered, wearing rumpled plaid pajamas. His face was confused, his eyes bleary. Despite everything, Rachel felt her heart jump a little when she saw him.

  "They're trying to arrest Tyler!" Uncle Sid was nearly hysterical.

  "For goodness’ sake, Sid. Stop it!" Uncle Jordan slammed his fist on the table. "You're such a wimp. Always were. You're making everything worse, man. Get a grip!"

  The harsh words worked. Uncle Sid still looked scared, but he sat back down. Nervously, he hugged himself, his eyes darting from the captain to his son. Tyler put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "It's fine, Dad. I'll be ok."

  "You aren't taking Tyler anywhere,” Grandma Mallory said again.

  "I don't need this drama,” Captain Walter muttered. "Fine. Tyler, all I wanted to ask was do you own a pair of white earphones?"

  "Do I?" Tyler shrugged. "Sure. They're standard issue. Every phone comes with one these days."

  "And do you remember when you last saw yours?" Captain Walter asked.

  "Mmmm. Let's see. I was wearing them when I went out for a jog day before. I tossed ‘em on a table in the foyer when I came in. That's the last I remember using them."

  "You're sure of this?" Captain Walter said.

  "Very." Tyler nodded.

  "Tyler, if you're lying about something — anything — I'd advise you to tell us now. Hiding things from us could be very dangerous for you."

  “I- I- I’m not h- hiding anything!" Tyler stuttered. But, for the first time, his easy assurance seemed to have melted away, and true fear lay naked in his eyes.

  "Alright. Then explain to us how your DNA is on the earphones that were used to murder Johnny Hayes,” Captain Walter said.

  "My…wait…the killer used my earphones to strangle Johnny?" Tyler's eyes were very wide. "It can't be."

  "No!" Uncle Sid was shivering. "Oh, Tyler. Tyler. What have you done?"

  "That's enough!" Grandma Mallory tapped a spoon against her glass, drawing everyone's attention. "Captain Walter, we are done cooperating. You may leave."

  "Ma'am—“

  "Don't ma'am me, boy. Do not return until you have either stronger proof or a warrant. If what you say is true, then Tyler left his earphones lying around in the foyer and the killer stole them. That's all. He has a solid alibi and you have no case against him."

  "You're refusing to cooperate? All of you?" Captain Walter looked around the room.

  "Hey now, Grandma. I think tempers are high and we all need to cool down a little. Captain Walter is one of the good guys, remember? He's here to help us,” Scott said, stepping in. "Let's not be hasty."

  "You're a silly little brat who thinks he knows the world just because someone gave him a toy gun and a sheriff's badge,” Grandma Mallory said to Scott, sniffing contemptuously. "Captain Walter, leave before I call security on you."

  "What security?" Captain Walter asked. "I know it's just you lot in this house."

  Uncle Jordan rose from his seat. "I'd suggest you leave, Captain. Tyler's not the killer. He had nothing to do with this sordid business. He's just a kid."

  Captain Walter sighed. He addressed Scott, "I'll be back by tomorrow. Try and knock some sense into this bunch by then. Tell them that if they don't cooperate with the police they could all go to jail. Or worse — the killer could go free.”

  *****

  Chapter 13

  I Should Confess

  There was a hush around the room as Captain Walter stormed out, nearly knocking a tray out of Zizka's hands as he passed her. The rest sat in stunned silence, trying to process what had happened. Seconds ticked by as silence stretched around them. Aunt Paris was the first to speak.

  "Tyler,” She cleared her throat and, instead, turned her eyes to Sidney. “Sid, maybe you should call a lawyer now."

  Grandma Mallory glared at her daughter, eyes shooting sparks. "Are you trying to say my Tyler is guilty?"

  "Well, no. But—“ Aunt Paris began.

  "Stay out of this, Paris!" Uncle Sid's face was very red and his hands were shaking with rage & frustration. He put his arm around Tyler. "We're all standing with you, son. We know you're innocent. Don't worry about a thing."

  Tyler had been sitting with his head down and his hands balled up into fists. His father's words made something erupt inside him. Pushing his father's hand off his shoulders, he threw back his chair and stormed out of the room, this time successfully knocking the tray out off Zizka's hand and sending it crashing to the floor.

  Zizka gave a little yelp and jumped back, staring at Tyler as he stormed off towards his room. Uncle Sid followed him almost immediately.

  "This is all your fault!" Grandma Mallory growled. She was staring at Scott, who looked both alarmed and annoyed.

  "Grandma—“ Scott began, his voice conciliatory.

  Grandma Mallory cut him off. "I don't want to hear it! Everyone's upset and it is all your fault. We should have called the lawyers first, and then the police. You're a sheriff. I trusted that you'd be of some use to us! Instead, you turned out to be spineless."

  "What are you talking about?" Scott stared at her. "Were you expecting me to—“ He couldn't complete the statement.

  "I was expecting you to be a man and do the right thing for your family!" Grandma Mallory thundered. "Instead, you're just sitting here passively while that foolish bubblehead accuses my grandson of a heinous crime!"

  "Nobody accused Tyler of anything."

  "Oh, please. They might as well have clicked on cuffs and dragged him away,” Grandma said. "Why couldn't you influence that man, Scott? What kind of policeman are you, anyway?"

  "The kind who believes in the truth,” Scott said, his voice sharp. "I believe you're trying to ask me to hide the truth from the law, Grandma. I don't do that. Not for family, not for myself, not for anybody."

  Grandma snorted. "That's not what I heard."

  Scott took a breath then shook his head. Turning on his heel, he stalked off down the hall, just narrowly avoiding Zizka and her recently recovered tray at the door.

  "Scott—“ Aunt Paris called out after him, only to have Grandma Mallory wave her down.

  "Let him sulk. Silly brat,” Grandma Mallory grumbled.

  Rachel couldn't bear it. Every second that she was around Grandma Mallory, she felt her blood pressure spike up. She'd been brought up to respect her elders but one more word against Scott and she was liable to say something that she would regret. She walked out of the room, turning into the hallway to look for Scott.

  She turned the wrong way, however, as she realized when she came up to a dead end. A closed door was to her left, and through it, she heard voices that made her suddenly stand still.

  "It's useless, Dad!" Tyler was saying.

  "Now, Son, don't give up,” Uncle Sid replied.

  Rachel froze and pressed her ear against the door. The voices were faint, as though the two men were whispering.

  "You heard the captain! If I don't confess, it'll be much worse for me,” Tyler's voice rang out, as he failed to suppress his emotions.

  "You haven't done anything. There's nothing to confess! You can't change your story now or you'll just be in bigger trouble!" Uncle Sid advised.

  Chills rippled down Rachel's back. What was this talk of confession? Could Tyler be the killer after all? She pressed against the door, eager to hear more, and stumbled when the door swu
ng open.

  Losing her balance, Rachel fell onto the floor with a crash, nearly upending a vase on a side-table. Tyler stood near the window with his hands clutching fistfuls of his hair. Uncle Sid was standing next to him, his hands moving animatedly through the air. They both swung around open-mouthed and stared as Rachel tried to pick herself up.

  “I— I—“ Rachel tried to think up an explanation, then gave up. They knew as well as she did that she'd been eavesdropping.

  "It's polite to knock,” Uncle Sid said, his voice icy.

  "Come off it, Dad. She was playing detective and you know it,” Tyler sneered. "Hear anything useful, Rachel?"

  "Tyler, if you've got anything to say to the police—“

  "I thought you were my friend!" Tyler exclaimed, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. "But you're just like all the rest. Pretending to believe me and thinking the worst. You don't care about me at all!"

  "It's not that,” Rachel said. "But Scott's right. Cooperating with the police is the best thing you can do."

  "No. We need a lawyer!” Uncle Sid exclaimed. “The police will try and trap you! They've made up their minds and they're looking for an arrest. Plain and simple.“

  "I don't know. I don't know anything!" Tyler stamped his foot in rage. He pulled his hair, letting out a scream and then said. "I need space. I need to think."

  "Please, Tyler,” Uncle Sid tried to hug Tyler, but to no avail. Roughly, Tyler pushed his father and, with a surprised cry, Uncle Sid fell backward onto the bed. Without even looking at him, Tyler marched out of the room and out of sight. Uncle Sid groaned and covered his eyes with his hands, lying on the bed.

  "This is terrible,” he said. "A nightmare. My son..."

  Feeling a twinge of pity at his obvious distress, Rachel sat down next to him and put a comforting hand on Uncle Sid's shoulder. "Uncle Sid, you're all panicking right now. You need to take a deep breath and think this through. I'm sure Tyler's innocent, but I think there's something he hasn't told the police. Whatever it is, he needs to tell them. He has to."