by Tess Rothery
They held hands an awful lot for cousins. And they had been seen kissing in public once or twice.
Stupid John, being so much fun.
Instead of going home, she texted Belle to make sure she was there to relieve Ellery. Then she went to Sissy Dorney’s house.
Sissy was putting some kind of macaroni dish on the table for her family. “Want to join us for some goulash?”
Taylor’s lip curled in spite of her best intentions.
Sissy laughed. “Trust me, it’s good.”
“Sure, if you don’t mind answering some questions.”
“Then grab yourself a seat.”
Her youngest, Breadyn, was dressed for karate, Dayton and Cooper were absent, and so was her husband. “Where is everyone?”
“Is that the first question? It’s not very interesting. Hubs is working late, Cooper is also working late with his dad, and Lord knows where Dayton is. I’ve never been able to keep track of that kid.”
“But she was supposed to be here. She said she was.”
“I’m sure she was at the moment you asked.”
Sissy finally sat down with a heavy sigh. “It’s been a long day on my feet. I always thought opening my own salon would mean I could do more sitting in an office and less actual work, but it turns out, no.”
“Mom, can I have some white bread?” Breadyn looked at the goulash with deep disappointment.
Up close, it still didn’t look great, but it smelled good. Like Hamburger Helper but with more vegetables. “Mmm. Looks delicious.” Taylor gave herself a heaping spoonful.”
Breadyn scrunched up her face but also took a scoop.
“What did you really want to know?” Sissy asked.
At the moment, what Taylor really wanted was to know where Dayton was, but she skipped to the other stuff anyway. “Anyone you know live at Bible Creek Care Home?”
“Sure, lots of people. I set up a mobile salon there once a month.”
“What did everyone think of Leon?”
“Everyone loved that guy. The ladies especially. They talk about him nonstop. He has a way with them.”
“And what did you think of him?” The goulash was decent. It tasted like childhood.
“I thought he was a shmuck. If one of my daughters ever came home with a person like that, I’d throw him out of the house. But he was good for morale, I guess.”
“He’d been there a long time.” Taylor had cleared her plate and was taking seconds.
“That he had.”
“No complaints?”
“None I ever heard.” Sissy also took seconds.
Breadyn just moved her noodles around her plate with the tips of her fork.
“Did the old guys like him as much as the ladies?”
“No, of course not. Jealous old coots. But some of them liked him all right. He was a good listener, if it suited him. And lots of men like to tell their war stories or their hunting tales or just reminisce about the good old days.” Sissy rolled her head from side to side until it cracked. “Don’t try that at home. You can hurt yourself.”
The motherly caution made Taylor laugh softly. “Had you ever heard anything about his life before he got here? Back in Oklahoma?”
“Not that I can think of. I tried not to get cornered by him. While folks told me he was a good listener, it seemed to me he only loved talking.”
“Did he have a particular obsession he’d go on and on about?”
“Besides Jesus?”
“He was a Methodist chaplain. I’d suspect that much at least.” Taylor set her fork on her plate. She would not eat thirds.
“He was a very big sports fan. The Ducks and all that.”
“But you’re a Ducks fan, too, aren’t you?” Sissy’s daughter Pyper was at University of Oregon with Belle.
“Sure, but I know when to shut up about it.”
“While he sounds unpleasant, I can’t see anyone wanting to kill him over it.”
“And yet, he’s dead. Taylor…” Sissy sighed again and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she leaned forward, “you were a big help with my aunt Reynette, and I appreciate it, but I am beat off my feet with work right now and can’t join you in some new detective thing.”
“No, sorry. Of course.” Taylor sat up, awkward all of a sudden. Sissy wasn’t a close friend, she guessed. All the more reason not to turn away invites to hang out with John Hancock.
“Now, don’t get offended. I like you fine. Glad to share dinner. But I’m putting in long days right now and just don’t have it in me.”
Taylor stood and picked up her plate. “Seriously, not offended. I appreciate this conversation, though. It was a big help.”
“You know I don’t like to butt into things that are not my business—”
A snort from her daughter interrupted her.
“That’s enough out of you.” Sissy swatted at her daughter with a laugh. “I don’t like to butt in where I’m not invited, but sometimes you have to. And I think you aren’t going to solve any issues with your inner person by doing this. I always thought your mother ought to have had you in counseling after your dad died. And now you’ve lost her too. And Ernie can’t be far behind. Let the police take care of Leon’s business and you go take care of yours.”
Taylor swallowed hard and kept her mouth shut till her brain thought of something not rude to say in response. “So, you hadn’t heard about Cricket?”
Her voice dropped, “What about Cricket?”
“She’s dead. Knife through the heart. And till they find out who, what, when, where, and why, I suspect Dayton is still in danger.”
Chapter Nine
Breadyn, go to your room.”
“But, Mom, I’m hungry.” The tween started to scarf the food she’d been ignoring.
“Then take it with you. The adults need to talk.”
Breadyn left the food at the table but didn’t argue about staying.
“Who would kill Cricket Jones? All she ever did was work hard and take care of people.”
“If she was as great as everyone says she was, then the person who killed her wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone who might have seen the murder.”
“Dayton is convinced she was a witness, but I’m not. Anyone could have been walking behind Leon when he was killed. In fact, lots of people probably were, which would be part of why the killer thought they could get away with it. You were there, wasn’t there a crowd?”
“Yeah, there was. It got crowded around the scene really fast. So, there must have been more folks behind him than Dayton recalls. But I wasn’t back there. I was at my table.”
“I’d say the killer was dressed like staff so he could blend in.”
“Sure…that’s plausible.” Taylor was ready to accept any ideas right now. Maybe it was the person Dayton saw who looked like he or she was in a disguise, or maybe it was someone else, disguised so well no one noticed. Taylor pulled out her phone and sent Dayton a text.
“The trouble is, Taylor, I really am about to fall asleep right here at the table. Why haven’t you gotten that cop you’re stringing along to help you?”
“He cut the string.” Taylor didn’t correct her. Why bother?
“Call him again. This is more important than your hurt feelings.”
“My feelings aren’t hurt.” Taylor thumped her phone with her thumb. She was irritated by the way her harmless intentions had led to discomfort, but that was the same thing as having hurt feelings.
“Tell that to the red that just poured into your cheeks. I’m not saying you wanted to marry the guy, but no one likes to get cut off.”
“Fine. I’ll text him.” And Taylor did. Just a quick one asking for help.
“What else have you done to get to the bottom of this?”
“It’s only been a couple of days.”
“In a couple of days, the murderer could be out of the country.” Sissy yawned, shook her curly-haired head and then yawned again.
“If my only goa
l is to protect Dayton, then I guess that’s a good outcome.”
“You need to talk to Leon’s wife.”
Taylor blinked in slow motion. “Hold on, I heard he was involved with Cricket.”
“Oooh.” Sissy ran her fingers through her hair, making the short, thick waves stand on end. “Then I guess we have one suspect.”
“Surely he’s not married. You must be thinking of someone else.”
“I’ve been introduced to his wife twice by him. But it was years ago. Maybe they’ve split up. Definitely check there. If he was seeing Cricket, his wife might have a lot of thoughts on that.”
“Got a name?”
“Annie Farkas. Don’t know what it was before they got married.”
“Does she live in Comfort?”
“They used to live in this little cabin out in Happy Hollow, but I don’t know. If they split up, she could be anywhere.”
“Fantastic.” Happy Hollow was a tiny little place in the Coast Range Mountains, about forty-five minutes from Comfort. Taylor could probably hit up every “little cabin” there in an hour or two, but she didn’t relish the idea of bothering a bunch of folks who like to live out of the way where people can’t bother them.
Her phone pinged, and her heart lurched. Dayton, finally.
But it wasn’t. Just Reg. “We can talk.” It wasn’t the warmest message ever, but at least he responded.
She followed up immediately. “do you have time tomorrow?”
“Meet me for coffee by the Sheriff’s office at 6.”
“Will do. Thanks.” She sighed. “Okay, Reg is going to talk to me tomorrow. Let’s hope it’s not too late.”
“Go home and see if you can scrounge up info about Annie Farkas. I’ll call Dayton. She knows better than to ignore my calls.” Sissy rubbed her eyes with the ball of her hand.
She did look beat, if Taylor was being totally honest. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
Sissy shrugged. “Come have dinner again anytime. You’re always welcome.”
Funny thing about Sissy. Sometimes Taylor felt like Sissy liked her as a person; sometimes Taylor wasn’t feeling it. But she knew that the invitation to eat with her anytime was sincere. This was the safest house Dayton could be in, and Taylor needed to get her back there.
Even though Sissy promised to get in touch with the kid, Taylor texted once more before she headed home.
“I cannot believe the nerve of that woman.” Karina Wyandotte sat in the Bible Creek Care Home Kitchen with the skeleton crew who had been preparing the sack lunch meals since the two murders. First thing Tuesday morning, just as the sun was starting to rise, and the place had the surreal feeling a school campus has during the weekend.
“I think she means well.” Frida passed a coffee to Karina. “She’s pretty good at solving murders.”
Chef Joey rolled her eyes. “So are the cops.”
“I just can’t believe you entertained her at all, much less answered her questions and sent her talking to residents.” Karina was in a scolding kind of mood.
“What makes you think I sent her talking to residents?”
“Joey?” Karina passed the question off.
“I’ve been visiting Mrs. Sylvester every afternoon, and she said Taylor Quinn came to see her and had a lot of questions about both Leon and Cricket.” Chef Joey poured herself another cup of coffee. She needed several to keep up with kitchen hours. Food was her one true love, but she had never been a morning person.
“I’ve never trusted the cops.” Skye had been sitting back, observing. “Not after the trouble Marco got into.” Marco was her husband. None of the crew knew exactly what his trouble had been, but it involved immigration detention. He was home now, but things had been hairy for several months the previous year.
“So, like me, you think it’s good of Taylor to be looking out for Leon and Cricket,” Frida said.
“I guess I don’t know her well enough to say for sure, but I’m glad someone’s doing it, and, frankly, I don’t have the time or energy or anything.” Skye patted her belly, which was ever so slightly round.
“What?” Frida’s eyes popped.
“Yup. I’m just telling people now, but that’s why I’ve been so exhausted and pukey.”
Frida ran across the room to hug her friend.
Karina exchanged a look with Joey, but Joey wasn’t in the mood for spinster-sisterhood.
“If I were Cricket’s family, I wouldn’t want some amateur messing around with the investigation. That’s all,” Joey said.
“Some amateur, or this one?” Skye asked. “I can understand why Karina is salty about Taylor, but what beef could you have?”
“None.” Joey caught Skye’s eye and gave a big, fake smile. “Beef has too much cholesterol for this kitchen.”
Frida laughed. Skye giggled. Karina gave Joey a long once-over, but Joey ignored it. She had as much love for Karina as she had for Taylor. And for the same reason.
Why was it girls like that—pushy ones, no talent ones, women who just sort of existed but never contributed—made men like Hudson fall in love with them? She’d never understand the male mind.
“So how is Mrs. Sylvester now that her boy is gone?” Frida asked.
“Mrs. Sylvester is sad, but you know how it is with the dementia patients.” Joey left it at that. The others nodded. Everyone who worked at Bible Creek Care Home knew what it was like with the memory care patients.
Joey went to the pantry to count non-perishable protein snack types. Not that she needed to, but she needed to be away from the ladies for a moment to think.
Taylor was out of line, snooping around Bible Creek Care Home. This was Joey’s territory. Taylor didn’t even have family living here.
A light knocking on the pantry door made Joey turn. Karina stood there looking like she knew everything in Joey’s mind.
“I don’t know or care why you hate Taylor Quinn. But I think our mutual dislike would be better served if we teamed up.”
Joey frowned at the small, intense woman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Suit yourself. But if she gets that Ernie Baker moved in here, you’ll never see the end of her.”
Karina left, her heels clicking down the linoleum hall.
If Joey could have her way, she’d keep Ernie Baker out of the care home and get rid of Karina Wyandotte too. She sighed. It all sounded so dramatic, but she wasn’t plotting more murder. Just daydreaming. For example, Karina Wyandotte was the kind of girl who’d embezzle or commit petty theft. It would be delightful to catch her with her hand in the cookie jar. But it wasn’t like she’d set a trap for her or anything…
Joey stared at the Rubbermaid full of cookies that had been left over from the tea party. The residents each got one in their lunch sacks. Sometimes she and her skeleton crew had a couple with their coffee.
No, she wouldn’t hope to catch Karina with her hand in the cookie jar. But she sure wished something would happen to get that woman out of her hair.
“Joey, Earth to Joey.” Skye waved a dish rag in the direction of her boss.
Joey started, then offered a wan smile.
“How many residents died here last year?”
“Edith Baycock, Deirdre Johnstone, Evelyn Rupert, and Josiah McCobb.”
“So, four, yes?” Skye asked.
“I guess.”
“No, it’s four. I counted. But you didn’t count. You remembered. You remembered their names. They were your friends. This place is a sad place to work, even when there isn’t a murder, and you need to get out. Can’t you take a little vacation? I think we’re all capable of making sack lunches.”
“Oh…” Joey hadn’t taken the toll of losing her friends into account when considering this job. After all, when she started, none of them were friends. That only came with time. “I don’t know. I ought to stick around. The police might think it’s weird if I just disappear.”
“Then just take today off. I promise we can handle i
t. Go, get your chef’s hat off literally and figuratively.”
Joey looked around her spotless pantry. Everything was lined up for a day’s worth of sack lunches. Her team could handle it. “Okay.” A heavy sigh escaped. “You’re right, you know. This is a really sad kitchen to work in. Right now, I’m terribly worried for Maureen Voytich. She broke her hip a month ago and her recovery has really been hard. I don’t know if she’ll make it.” Tears formed as she spoke the fear she had been keeping locked up. Maureen was a lovely woman in her late eighties. She’d already had two heart attacks, and the broken hip had almost taken her. But her laugh always rippled through the dining room making everyone else smile. And she told the silliest jokes imaginable. It would be so quiet around Bible Creek Care Home when Maureen was gone.
“Go, get out. Get some fresh air. Come back tomorrow. Or don’t.”
“Thank you.” Joey thrust her arms around Skye for an impulsive hug. She needed to get away. Maybe an afternoon off would feel good. But if it didn’t help, she’d call the boss and ask about taking a longer break.
Joey went straight to Café Olé for a cup of café con leche, a beautiful half milk/half coffee drink that warmed the cockles of your heart. Once there, she couldn’t turn down a dish of flan, either. But the coffee shop was crowded. She stood, awkwardly assessing the small space full of people she didn’t know. How had she lived in town all this time, but still only knew the residents of the care home?
“I’ve got a spare seat.” A nice-looking man with a crooked smile stood from his table. “If you don’t mind sitting with a stranger.”
“Oh. Um…”
“I’m very chatty,” he said, “so we won’t be strangers long. Anyway, I’m kind of new to town and need to meet folks. You can be one of the first.”
“Sure. Thanks.” She sat on the edge of the chair opposite this fellow.
“I’m Clay Seldon.” He held out his hand.
She set her things on the table. “I’m Joey Burke. Nice to meet you.”
Chapter Ten
Reg was waiting by the front door of the sheriff’s office in McMinnville when Taylor arrived at six in the morning that Tuesday.
