Cups and Killers

by Tess Rothery

  “I promise, I’m not remotely interested. But thanks for the warning.”

  She ended the call. “He’s violent.”

  Hudson nodded, but didn’t offer any more advice.

  Taylor paced the small living room, circling it and considering her options. “Jerrod Brickell is a smaller man, soft spoken, so he wouldn’t likely draw attention to himself at the event, was the last person potentially to see Cricket alive, and was prone to violence. And his mom had invested with Leon, right?”

  “That sounds right to me.”

  “I think I need to call Bethany Jones. Do you mind?”

  “Do what you need to do.”

  She stopped pacing and sat on the couch next to him. “But, really, is it okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Grandpa Ernie grunted. Taylor looked up expecting a derisive comment about manly men or something, but it had actually just been him falling asleep in his chair.

  “Like I said, I wouldn’t have loaned my dad money to save his house, either. I don’t know that having a relationship with the Jonses is in the cards for me, but there’s no reason for you to not call them about this murder.”

  “Okay then.” She called immediately in case he was going to change his mind.

  Bethany answered right away.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you,” Taylor said.

  “It’s never a bother when you call. And thank you so much for connecting us with Hudson again. He was such a charming boy, but now he’s such a lovely man.” She sighed softly. “What can I do for you?”

  “You know, we’re all still just reeling from the deaths, and we’ve been chatting with friends and all of that. A name came up, and I was wondering if you knew him…Jerry, Jerrod Brickell? He’s actually my cousin, but I haven’t seen him in years.”

  “Oh.” Her voice dropped. “Yes. I knew him. Cricket dated him for a while. I’m sorry he’s your cousin, because I have nothing good to say about him.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t really know him. Not well. I just, his name came up, and I wondered. That’s all.” She paused, thought for a moment, then threw caution to the wind. “Actually, someone said they saw Cricket talking to him shortly before she was killed.”

  This was greeted by a long silence. Then, “I always knew he’d destroy her.” Her voice broke. “She got clean, you know? She was clean for so long. Then she met him.”

  “Oh, Bethany, I’m sorry.”

  “If she was seen with him, then he’s the one who killed her. I’m calling the police. You’d better tell whoever saw them to call too. I can’t talk now. I have to do this.” Her words sped up and went high, fear, anger, adrenaline all present.

  “Do that, please. Call them. I’ll talk to the witness and make sure she does as well.”

  She hung up and stared at Hudson.

  He tilted his head slightly.

  “I think we have the killer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Clay had offered to work for Taylor so she could go hunting for her cousin, the killer, but Willa wasn’t free to work with him, and the sunny June day was a busy one at the quilt shop. She couldn’t get away till evening, which was fine with Grandma Quinny.

  Early summer sun was just setting when they arrived at Jenny-Sue’s little apartment. Taylor’s shoe-string relation welcomed her guests from her tiny kitchen where she was baking something in a compact convection microwave.

  Grandma Quinny took her place on the floral slip-covered love seat with a flourish. She must have visited before because the soft colors of her crisp striped button-down complemented the furniture. “Jenny-Sue, how have you been feeling?”

  “Good, good.” Jenny-Sue was a small woman with a rounded back. She wore an old-fashioned housecoat of polyester velveteen that made Taylor’s fingers curl. She’d had a jacket made of that fabric as a child, and the memory of it was visceral.

  Jenny-Sue carried a plate of scones to the coffee table. “Can I make you tea? I don’t have coffee, I’m sorry.”

  “Tea would be lovely, dear, then sit. Relax. We just wanted to visit for a while. It’s been too long.”

  “Not since dear Laura’s funeral.” Jenny-Sue clucked sadly.

  The funeral for Taylor’s mother was a blur in her head. People everywhere. Flowers. Disposable aluminum dishes filled with casseroles. Broken words from sad people.

  “How are you holding up without her? I do hope that Ernie isn’t giving you trouble.” Jenny-Sue’s eyes twinkled.

  “He’s no trouble.” Taylor didn’t elaborate. He was a ton of trouble, but that wasn’t Jenny-Sue’s business.

  “He always was a darling. A real delight.” Jenny-Sue looked away, a soft smile on her face.

  As much as she loved her grandpa, Taylor was eager to get to the subject on the forefront of her mind.

  “Ernie Baker is a gentleman.” There was something in Grandma Quinny’s voice that sounded like a warning.

  “Grandpa’s fine. He’s doing well, but how are you holding up? That’s what I’d like to know. There’s just been so much sadness here and so much danger.” The tag at the back of Taylor’s polo shirt was irritating her neck. She reached back and scratched at it.

  “Oh! Hasn’t it just been awful? And we were stuck in our rooms for so long. It’s really lovely now that we can get out again.”

  “Have you had a lot of visitors to help pass the time?” Taylor sat on her hands to keep from fussing with her shirt.

  “No, not since the tea party. That’s why it’s just been so lonely. I tell you, now that we can eat in the dining room again, I’m feeling much better. Nothing like a little company to make things look right again.”

  “Did you have company at the tea party, or did you have to face that awful trauma alone?” Taylor asked.

  “Darling, maybe she doesn’t want to think about such a sad experience.” Grandma Quinny took a scone and gave her granddaughter a disapproving look.

  “I haven’t had anyone to talk about this with in ages, and let me tell you, I do have things to say!” Jenny-Sue matched Grandma Quinny’s look of disapproval. She nibbled her own scone and sat back in her oak glider rocker.

  “Don’t get yourself all worked up, Jenny-Sue. You know your heart.”

  “Pish, my heart is fine and so is my hearing. And during that tea party, after Leon fell, you know, you should have heard the things they were saying at the table next to me.”

  As much as Taylor appreciated the value of gossip when digging for the truth, she really only wanted to know if Jerry had been at the party and if he had been where he was supposed to be when Leon was killed. She tapped the heel of her foot impatiently.

  “To start with, that Darlene Smith, you know the one, she’s got her eye on Boggy Hudson. I could just smack her on the back of the head sometimes. She’s much too young for him. There’s older ladies here who deserve a shot at tall, handsome men who don’t live in the memory care wing.”

  Grandma Quinny groaned softly.

  Taylor bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from interrupting.

  “Darlene was terribly envious of old Mrs. Sylvester who was sitting with you all. And she knows how much Mrs. Sylvester loved her nephew, so she said right off how Leon had it coming.”

  “Surely that wasn’t just because she liked Boggy,” Grandma Quinny chided.

  Jenny-Sue’s lips curled up. “I think that was the primary motivation, but there was also the envy. She wanted in on the investment, but it had closed up before she could get her bid in.” Jenny-Sue gave a little toss of her head like she would have done if she’d had a full head of hair to throw over her shoulder.

  “Tell me you didn’t partake in that nonsense,” Grandma Quinny scolded.

  “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve always been ahead of the curve. Silly Leon thought he took me for a ride. I gave him a good bit of money, but…” Jenny-Sue leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I’m rich. I could afford to lose what I gave him if the rumors were true.”r />
  “But what were the rumors?” Taylor hoped this might give her the chance to turn the conversation back to Jerrod.

  “Everyone who didn’t get invited to invest said he was taking our money to gamble. I don’t think he was.” Jenny-Sue held her head high with her little round chin jutted out. “I think he was investing like he said, but I think he was investing in something awful like cocaine or heroin.”

  Grandma Quinny stared with wide eyes.

  Taylor had never seen her Grandma lost for words. She wondered how she could ever have missed a woman like this Jenny-Sue at a family party. Surely…surely! But, no, she hadn’t gone to many recently, and when she was younger, she spent her time off in the strawberry fields goofing around with her cousins. “You wouldn’t have wanted to earn money from something like that, would you?” Taylor asked.

  “Why not?” Jenny-Sue countered. “Drug money spends as good as anything.”

  “Jenny-Sue,” Grandma Quinny’s voice rose, “after the troubles your boys had, you can’t possibly mean that.”

  “You know how much of my money I’ve spent on rehab? It’s about time I make some money from all of this.” She crossed her arms defensively.

  “I can’t imagine if your, um, boys had gotten clean, they would have liked to think you were um...making money selling drugs.” Taylor had trouble piecing the words together. Jenny-Sue was not like any of the other older folks in her life.

  “I don’t know what Johnny thinks. He hasn’t spoken to me in years.”

  “What about your other son?”

  “Jerry? Oh, he’s just a wonder, that Jerry. But I didn’t tell him a word about it. None of his business. He’s had enough of my money already. How else would he have gotten that little Minnie Winnie of his? But at least he uses it to visit me. No guest room in this place. But now he can park out by where the woods start. There’s a and no one ever tickets him there. He never leaves until I tell him I’m sick of him. Pretty lucky, I’d say.”

  “I’m sure his work doesn’t like that.” Grandma Quinny had managed to find a few more disapproving words.

  “Oh, he doesn’t work. Early retirement because of an injury.”

  “But he’s younger than my David!”

  David was one of Taylor’s many uncles. The youngest Quinn son.

  “So? He’s doing fine and isn’t bothering anyone.”

  Jenny-Sue glowered at Grandma Quinny.

  Grandma Quinny stared from under lowered eyebrows.

  Taylor wondered why on earth these two women considered each other friends, much less family. She cleared her throat quietly and asked the question she’d been dying to ask, “Was he at the tea party with you?”

  “He came to the party, but he’d excused himself before Leon was killed. I’m glad he did. I didn’t want to hear one more person saying Leon deserved it. No one deserves murder.” Jenny-Sue’s black eyes were practically sparkling, but her frame seemed to lose a little of its strength.

  “Let me get you that cup of tea, Jenny-Sue.” Grandma Quinny went to the kitchen. She was back in form, the weakened state of her friend having rallied her own spirits. “And, Taylor, please, if you could just drop this subject, I’m sure we’d both appreciate it very much.”

  “Yes, sorry, Grandma.” Taylor dusted scone crumbs from the legs of her jeans. She had gotten what she had come for. Jerry was not at the table, where he was supposed to be, when someone knifed Leon Farkas.

  “Now, tell me how that new great-grandbaby of yours is doing.” Grandma Quinny set a small china cup on the table next to Jenny-Sue, but before Jenny-Sue could answer, the air was filled by the squall of a fire alarm.

  Jenny-Sue sighed and stood slowly. “Not everyone in this place deserves to have their own oven.”

  As if by some kind of pointed bad luck, a light drizzle had started to fall, and the residents of Bible Creek Care Home were huddled together under the weak shelter of an old oak tree in the far parking lot.

  It was the dusk of an Oregon summer day. Everyone stood in grey shadows, the sun long gone, but not dark enough for the lights in the parking lot to have come on. Taylor counted heads—not hard as they weren’t a rambunctious crowd—but she didn’t know how many there ought to be. Marva Love stood on the far side with a tall, slender person wearing an over-sized coat with the hood up. Likely Dayton. Though Taylor had known the girl was safe, she was hugely relieved to see her with her own eyes. She also spotted the tall Boggy Hudson, but Mrs. Sylvester wasn’t around. Wait staff, kitchen crew, and cleaning crew stood between the residents and the building as though they were the safety line.

  “Well, this just beats all.” Jenny-Sue squinted into the crowd. “Chef Joey is over there with Karina from the front desk, what’s her last name? Don’t remember. Her people never were worth much. Last I heard, those two hated each other. What are they up to?” She leaned heavily on a black lacquered cane decorated with a green snake curling around it.

  “I would think the staff would be great friends,” Grandma Quinny murmured, but her eyes were on her sturdy Volvo station wagon, so close but so far away at the same time. The car was blocked by the fire truck.

  “Does this happen a lot?” Taylor asked Jenny-Sue. Her mind at the moment was on her Grandpa Ernie and his mobility issues. Having to rush outside in case of a fire didn’t seem ideal for the elderly man with the shuffling gate and the walker.

  “No, no, less than twice a year.” Jenny-Sue’s attention had been taken by two firefighters who had come out of the building.

  They looked relaxed, as they should. The building hadn’t burst into flames, and no great choking clouds of smoke had billowed forth. They stared at the front door for a moment. The taller of the two scratched his jaw, then they parted and walked in opposite directions still looking at the front of the building. The timed lights around the planting beds popped on, like the footlights of a stage.

  The sheriff’s Chevy Blazer pulled into the parking lot, but it didn’t have its sirens or lights on.

  Taylor checked her watch, antsy to get on with things. If the fire situation was taken care of, she was keen to see if she could grab the sheriff’s deputy before he left again. She squinted at the sheriff’s car. It would be great if it was a deputy she knew.

  Before she could figure out who it was, a great echoing boom reverberated through her chest. She grabbed for the trunk of the skinny little tree next to her, then exhaled sharply. She was shaking and her ears felt clogged. She caught Grandma Quinny’s eye.

  Grandma Quinny frowned, the worry line between her eyes was cut deep.

  The two firemen froze.

  And great billowing clouds of smoke poured out of the kitchen wing of the old folk’s home.

  Taylor spun and checked the crowd again. Dayton was still safely with her great aunt. She spotted Boggy. And the sheriff was out of his truck talking on a cell phone.

  She wanted to push her way through to get to him, but to be frank, she knew better.

  Grandma Quinny placed a hand on her back. “It looks like we may all be here a while. Why don’t you go over to the staff and see if you can help. These folks are going to need seats.”

  “Yes, Grandma.” Taylor joined Karina and Joey who were in mid conversation.

  “Because that’s what Molotov cocktails do.” Karina’s tone left no doubt about her opinion of Joey’s intellect.

  “But who would do that? Who would throw a firebomb into an old folks’ home?”

  “Should we get chairs?” Taylor interrupted.

  Karina rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t think we can go back in there,” Joey said.

  Taylor chewed her bottom lip. “But these folks, they are going to need to sit. They can’t just stand out here forever.”

  “We know that. But no one’s letting us in an exploding building.”

  “Benches!” Joey looked excited. “We’ve got benches all along the exterior of the building. They’ll let us bring those over, come on.”


  She and Taylor left Karina and found one of the firefighters, who had stopped to have a drink from a water bottle. They got permission to drag benches over, and Joey enlisted the help of her kitchen crew.

  Taylor let them work and rejoined Karina. “Why do you say it was a Molotov cocktail?”

  “Plural.” Karina shifted the low neckline of her stretchy shirt. It was getting chilly. “Someone tossed them in. One caught fire right away and set off the alarm. Another one must have hit the gas in the kitchen to make the explosion. There were probably others.”

  “But why? Who?”

  “Why would I know? We’ve had murders, now arson and explosions. Probably connected, right? I know someone’s been asking a lot of questions.” She sneered at Taylor. “Maybe the killer got antsy and wanted to get rid of evidence. Or witnesses.”

  What if the killer knew Dayton was here and had tried to kill her this horrible way?

  But how would he know?

  If it was Jerry…and Jerry made long visits when he came by…

  She wanted to go ask Jenny-Sue more pointed questions, but it might be too late.

  Instead, she sent a lengthy text to Reg, the only deputy whose number she had saved in her phone. She begged him to pass the info on immediately, and said she was going to look for a “Minni-Winnie” off where there was a wide shoulder by the woods.

  She didn’t plan on accosting Jerry, she just wanted to see if he was still there.

  “I’ve got to walk around a little,” she whispered to Grandma Quinny. “I’m getting anxious. Do you mind?”

  Grandma Quinny gave her a little side hug. “If you don’t mind, could you go to my car? I’ve got several blankets in the trunk and at least one spare coat.”

  “Give me a minute, okay?” She scanned the crowd of residents again. They could use the extra warmth, but she desperately wanted to prevent that little Winnebago from driving away.

  She hoofed it as far around the building as she could before shouting arrested her.

  She couldn’t really make out the words, but assumed it was, “Hey, you, stop!” So, she did.