by Tess Rothery
The little fight seemed to have died out. Clay had taken Joey to another booth, and Karina sat back at the bar nursing a beer.
Taylor considered the scene before her. Joey was a bit on the young side. Twenty-five to Clay’s thirty-four, but that wasn’t the worst age difference in the world, and if it got him out of her hair, all the better.
Suzanne brought four burgers to the table that now only Roxy and Taylor were sitting at. “Take one home to Jonah,” Taylor offered, digging into her dinner. “And if Clay’s hungry, he’ll come get his himself.
Clay and Joey left the bar together, though he did grab his burger from Taylor’s table and offered her an apologetic half grin.
As she watched him walk out, she had a twinge of loss. There he went, the man she…. She stopped herself mid-thought. How long was she going to allow herself to wallow? Sure, a year and a half ago she’d had all sorts of visions about their future together, but at least he was still alive, and if she wanted to pass the time of day with him, she could. Unlike Leon Farkas or Cricket Jones.
The light in the apartment above Flour Sax glowed through the gap in the curtain as Taylor drove past. She wondered if Joey had gone up with Clay. She wondered if they’d have an embarrassing good morning as Joey tried to slip out the back the next day. Then again, as a chef who ran breakfast, she’d be long gone by the time Taylor and Roxy were filming the next morning.
Taylor longed to call Hudson, but he had an early morning, too, and calling Hudson because she missed Clay was a level of not-coping-well that she didn’t want to fall to.
Instead, she texted Dayton, the scared young adult she hadn’t heard from in a while.
As if by miracle, Dayton replied. “Safe. Don’t worry. Hiding.”
This was exactly the kind of message that would make Taylor worry.
Belle joined Taylor at the breakfast table the next morning. “You know,” she said as she poured a cup of coffee for her sister, “I’m getting kind of worried about Dayton.”
“Funny you should mention that.” Taylor passed the phone over, opened to the cryptic message from the night before. “When are her parents coming home?”
“They aren’t. Last I heard they are putting the house on the market and moving permanently to Montreal.”
Taylor’s heart seemed to stop. Poor Dayton. “They can’t just abandon her here, can they?”
“This is all from Cooper, who heard it from his mom. Well, she didn’t tell him, but he overheard her talking to Dayna—Dayton’s mom. I guess Sissy was pissed. She said they had to send the kid a plane ticket. Cooper couldn’t hear the other side, but his mom said a bunch of stuff about how they can’t force her to join the military, and they can’t abandon her here with no job or money. You get the picture.”
“They have to come home to pack up their stuff though, right?”
“You’d think. Cooper didn’t get those details.”
“I’d better add seeing Sissy to my to-do list. How about dinner tonight? She said we’re always welcome.”
“Sure, better than your cooking.” Belle grinned. Maybe getting out of Comfort for some world travel soon had put the mercurial teen in a good mood. If so, Taylor hoped Belle would have a lifetime of great adventures and only come home when she was happy.
Belle excused herself, carrying a plate of dry toast and a glass of water.
Taylor stared after her. It took her longer than seemed right to remember Levi was upstairs with the flu. This couldn’t continue. She had to get rid of that kid somehow.
Taylor sent Ellery a text asking if she could stay a little later with Grandpa Ernie and got a thumbs up. She had to head to the shop for filming, so she did the washing up quick and then put on her YouTube face. More make-up and hair product than her norm, but she’d noticed she wasn’t herself recently. She was a sort of shadowy, hollowed-out version of herself, but not in the “I’ve started running” or “I went vegan” kind of way. She was sure she was eating enough, and she was treating herself, too, so there was no way she was losing weight due to neglect.
What she needed was a nice long day in town with an unlimited credit card. That always put the roses back in her cheeks. Until then, she just hoped Jonah could work some magic when he edited the video. Get some life in her eyes, if that was possible.
At the shop, she just bumbled around. She was early for filming. She had sort of wanted to catch Joey sneaking out of Clay’s apartment.
Joey, as she found herself saying several times since the deadly tea party, was a nice girl. She liked Joey. Missing the closeness of her childhood best friend, Maddie Carpenter, because of a misunderstanding regarding Belle’s grief counseling, Taylor longed for a girlfriend to fill the void.
Roxy showed up at nine, right on time. If Joey had been upstairs, she’d left before Taylor got there. No friendly teasing this time. But if she was brave, she could face the dragon at the front desk of Bible Creek Care Home and pop over to say hi. After all, considering the tantrum Karina had thrown at the bar, Joey and Taylor had something they could bond over—a mutual enemy.
Chapter Thirteen
Karina Wyandotte sat in her office chair, spinning it side to side in agitation. Her plan hadn’t worked last night. Her vicious attack—and it had been a good one—on Joey had somehow thrown Hudson into Taylor’s arms. It didn’t make sense. Joey had texted that the attention from Clay must have been just as good—surely that would make Taylor jealous, but why would she be jealous that Joey had the attention of a mealy-mouthed little man like Clay when she had Hudson on a string, and that string was wrapped around her finger?
Karina wanted to go to the kitchen and give Joey a real piece of her mind. If Joey had an ounce of brains, she would have gone straight to Hudson for protection when she saw he wasn’t coming to her. How hard would that have been? But having it out on Joey wouldn’t be a good use of her morning. Besides, there was a mid-morning staff meeting for department heads. After that she could have a few quiet words with her new friend. She could put her right.
Mid-swivel, her boss Van Rexel came in. A tall, handsome man in his mid-fifties, he had become a sort of goal for Karina. Not him personally, but him as a type. Van was very rich, and quiet. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d make a fuss around the house for his wife. He was well-dressed, today in khakis that flattered his bottom, and a gold shirt that showed off his tan. His hair was silver, but thick. Like the old guy on Mad Men. And his eyes, also a sort of silvery gray, sparkled with amusement whenever he spoke.
She would have liked to make him her target. He was a catch—but someone had already caught him. And the divorce had been acrimonious, to say the least. Marv’s new wife was a disappointment, in Karina’s opinion. She ought to have been a sexy young blonde, but, instead, she was about his own age with short silver hair that kind of matched his. She golfed too. At least his first wife had been housewifely and made cookies for the staff.
“Earth to Karina.” Marv’s eyes sparkled, almost like he was laughing at her. She wasn’t sure if she’d been staring at him or past him, but it didn’t matter. She was young and pretty and didn’t golf or cook, so she wasn’t his type anyway. “The mid-morning meeting is important. The sheriff is coming in to update everyone on the investigation and give us our new parameters. While the department heads are meeting, I need you to run to town and get a few things.” He slid a list across the tall counter that separated Karina from visiting family.
“At your service.”
“Good, keep up the good work.” He made a finger gun and a clicking sound as he left.
Roxy and Taylor filmed an indifferent video about keeping your scissors sharp. Even Roxy looked defeated at the end of it.
“Your heart isn’t in this right now, is it?”
Taylor put away her many pairs of scissors and didn’t reply.
“We were doing really well all winter and spring.” There was an uplift at the end of Roxy’s words that should have been, well, uplifting. “But
this murder…”
“And with Dayton off hiding somewhere.” Taylor traced the blade of her Ginghers. “My heart’s not in it. That’s a good way of putting it.”
“Is there something you’ve been wanting to do that you’ve been too busy for? Someone you’d like to talk to? You might as well. I’m in today, and Willa is as well. The shop doesn’t really need all three of us.”
“I’d love to finally talk to Leon’s wife. I bet the whole mess could be cleared up in that one conversation.”
Roxy laughed. “You don’t think she’d just admit to murder, do you?”
Taylor scrunched her face. “No, but I bet she’s the only one who really knows what Leon would have been killed for. She might not even know she knows it.”
“Then go ask. Why not?”
The Farkas’ house in Happy Hollow was exactly what you would picture for a place called Happy Hollow. It was tucked off Three Rivers Highway, down a long gravel drive that rounded at the house to make it easy to leave again. Sheltered by the Evergreen forest of the Coast Range mountains and encircled by a velvety green lawn, it was an illustration of bucolic rural living.
The house itself was small and Sears-kit styled in the Tudor tradition with peaked roof and arched doorway.
Taylor parked in the rounded drive and took a deep breath. She didn’t know if Annie was grieving the loss of her almost-ex-husband or relieved. And she didn’t know if she’d let a stranger in to ask probing questions, either. Taylor knocked on the cheery lime-colored door and hoped at least Annie would be home.
An elfish tween girl with hair in small buns all over her head opened the door.
“Hi,” Taylor faltered. She hadn’t expected there to be kids. Hadn’t even thought of children. “Is, um, is your mom at home?”
The tween narrowed her eyes, then turned and hollered over her shoulder, “Moooom!”
Within seconds a slim, elegant woman with sleek, golden bobbed hair came to the door. “Yes?”
“Hi, um, Annie?”
“Yes?” Her face was neutral. No signs of recent weeping, no signs of shock at seeing a stranger at the door. She stood behind her daughter, patiently waiting for Taylor to state her business.
“Hi. Um. I….” But Taylor was at a loss for words. She didn’t know Annie, didn’t have anyone to introduce them, and stood staring at a kid who maybe ought to have been devastated by the recent loss of her dad.
Those feelings, those panicked feelings from all those years ago, rolled over Taylor. But she too had been able to present herself as calm during the day back then. Maybe this tween was the same. Able to holler for her mom now, while the sun was shining, but broken into a million pieces at night on her own.
Taylor rallied. She knew about grieving kids. She could do this. “I was wondering if we could talk about Leon.”
Annie sighed heavily. “Maeve, head to your room for a few, okay?”
Maeve skirted around her mom and left.
Annie took a step as though to join Taylor outside, then changed her mind and opened the door wider. “Come in. I have coffee, how do you take it?”
Taylor followed Annie to the kitchen.
“First of all, I’m so sorry for your loss. I wasn’t aware that Leon had kids.”
Annie inhaled slowly, but not in frustration or anything like that. She sounded instead like she was fueling up for a long talk.
The kitchen was small by McMansion standards, but had room for a round pine table and four chairs. Taylor sat and Annie poured coffee from a percolator into a blue and gray handmade ceramic mug. “Cream or sugar?”
“Cream, please.”
Annie took a small paper carton of half-and-half from the fridge and brought it to the table with the mug, then she sat. “I’m sorry for whatever he’s done.”
“You misunderstand.” Taylor sipped the coffee. It was strong but not bitter.
“Ah. Then I had better let you talk.” Annie had a mug that matched Taylor’s. They were both lovely glowing things with thick rich blue glaze and delicate sides, though the clay itself felt sturdy in her hand.
“I’m sorry for not introducing myself. I’m Taylor Quinn. I live in Comfort and run Flour Sax Quilt Shop.”
Annie’s eyes went soft. “Oh, yes, you were in the news recently. I’m so sorry about your mother.”
“Thank you.”
“You helped with that other investigation as well, didn’t you? The death of Reynette Woods? I have one of Reynette’s quilts. It’s beautiful. I’m not a quilter myself,” she stroked the side of her mug with her thumb, “but I appreciate beauty in all art forms.”
“Yes, she was very gifted.”
“I assume you must be here to offer to help me find out who killed Leon.” Annie sighed as though the idea made her tired.
“I was really wondering if you could help me. You see, I was there when he was killed as was a dear family friend. That friend thinks she saw the killer and that the killer saw her. I know, it sounds melodramatic, but she’s young. And she asked me to help her. To look into it. The sooner the killer is caught, the sooner this girl feels safe.”
Annie lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “I see. That does change things.”
“So far everyone I’ve talked to either loved Leon with their whole heart or begrudged him the love everyone else gave him, but not enough to kill him. Especially in such a dramatic matter.”
“And as his ex-wife, I’m maybe the only person you could think of who would want to see him dead.”
“Not at all. You’re the only person I could think of who knew him long enough to know why someone else might want to see him dead.”
“The police have spent considerable time here with me. Don’t you think their resources are better than yours?” Her words weren’t judgmental. Tired, but not impatient. She seemed curious. That’s how it felt to Taylor. Annie didn’t seem to mind the intrusion, but she hadn’t made up her mind to help yet.
“Reynette was killed over money—the potential loss of it, anyway. My mother was killed by a woman who, well, she was deranged, but what spurred her to kill was the idea that Mom had hurt her daughter or damaged her in some way. Is there anyone in Leon’s life who might have felt something like that?”
Annie smiled. “Do we know any deranged people he has harmed? Not offhand. None I can think of anyway. Do I know anyone who would benefit financially from his death? No. No life insurance policies. No savings.”
“Is that why you separated?” It was a bold question, but something about Annie’s tone, her open body language, and the way she made eye contact, but not too much of it, made Taylor think she could ask a personal question like that.”
“Yes.” Annie set her cup down. “Leon was very charismatic, but not wise. And he was overtly friendly, but not kind. It was a difficult relationship for me, made worse by his gambling.”
“Was it an addiction?”
“I don’t think so.” She paused. “No, I really don’t. He claimed it was, like you do when you want sympathy for your bad behavior, but he wasn’t racking up debt behind my back to fund the gambling, and he wasn’t out every night doing it. No…he just slowly but surely frittered away our life’s savings and didn’t mention it.”
“What was the final straw?”
“He’s in the ministry and that doesn’t pay well. I’m an artist, a potter,” she nodded at a hutch full of pottery that matched the mugs they were drinking from, “and that doesn’t pay well, either. Every penny we had saved through the years had come as a sacrifice. No sports for Maeve or Orrin, for example. No summer camps, either. I work in my studio behind the house and so we were a one-car family for several years as well, though I briefly taught pottery at Comfort College of Art and Craft. He said it didn’t pay well enough to justify the expense of keeping the second car. I agreed, though I miss it.”
“Were you able to start again when you separated?”
“No. The position was filled. The last straw was when I realized the savings, n
ot much, mind you, but safely in mutual funds for retirement someday, was just gone. All of it.”
“That seems like it could point to addiction.”
“The marriage counselor agreed. But I don’t think so. He went to the casino with his residents and just lost the money there. Over and over and over. At our age, we ought to have had more, I know, but you don’t have to be an addict to lose thirty-thousand dollars in five years of trips to a casino.”
“I see.”
“But the loss of thirty-thousand to gambling is devastating when it is literally all you have.”
“And there wasn’t a life insurance policy? Not through his work?”
“If Bible Creek Care Home insured him for their own gain, I don’t know about it. They certainly didn’t insure him for us. And neither did I. He had a congenital heart defect, and the premiums for a life insurance policy weren’t affordable.”
“Annie, I’m so sorry to make you dig through all of this again.”
“It’s to be expected. The police have been here several times, as I said. The pastor from the church wanted to talk it out with me. I’ve been fielding calls from the media.”
Taylor shook her head. “Still, a nosey citizen seems like one too many to me.”
“When you care about someone, as you care about your young friend, sometimes you have to do things that are inconvenient to others.”
Annie’s grace made Taylor uncomfortable, stiff and awkward with guilt. “When Leon gambled,” she turned the conversation, “he lost, so it’s not as though there was some hit man out looking for him because of his absurd winnings.”
Annie smiled, her eyebrows crinkling in humor. “If he had to be dead anyway, I sure would have liked it to be for that reason. I could use some ill-gotten gain about now.”
“What about the residents? Did they win much? Or was someone losing so much they got angry at him?”
Annie shook her head. “I don’t know much about the residents. Once the kids got to school age and could take the bus, I had to give up the car, and so I wasn’t around to get to know them.”
