Fruit Basket Upset: A Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mystery

by Tess Rothery

  Maybe they wanted to spend Valentine's Day at the place they first met. Weirder things have happened for anniversaries.

  The last quarter of the journal was empty. Blank pages that had meant hope and love in Molly's mind. She had filled it up quickly though, as it had only been the second to last day of February when she died.

  Taylor read every inch of the last two weeks of February. More sketches, some obvious and pathetic in their naivete such as large elaborate diamond rings. Others simple projects for kindergarten students to do. Some kind of math game for early learners. A reading project. A few notes about how badly she missed her little Laurie while working with the other kids. It was sweet the way she called him Laurie still, even though everyone else had refused her literary namesake.

  The second to last page with a full love letter to the man, still unnamed, who she had been seeing.

  She wrote about his strength and maturity. His brilliance.

  She wrote about how he was exactly the man she would want her little Laurie to have training him to be a man in this world. It went on like that, some words lined out and replaced with bigger, more flowery phrases such as when she replaced “smart” with “wisdom from living a long life.”

  She signed it lavishly offering him her whole heart—a heart which had leapt to life outside of her body as it does for all mothers. She begged him to accept the love of her precious little man, which she knew he would get immediately when they could finally meet. Under her signature was a series of deeply carved question marks. Was this a rough draft and had she written a final? Had she given it to him? How had this paragon of virtue handled the idea of being stepfather to a little boy he could have been the grandpa of? Taylor stared at the last page, yet another little craft idea. Nothing personal. Nothing intimate. She traced the squares of the sketch with her fingertip and then looked up for the first time since finding the book.

  Kelly and Graham stood side-by-side watching her with matching wide eyes.

  “Sorry.” Taylor handed the book to Kelly, the rightful owner. Not that there weren't things that might be newsworthy for Graham, but he could have it next, or he could have its contents from Kelly if he knew how to ask the right questions.

  “I guess she upgraded her fat little notebook,” Taylor said with a shrug.

  “No.” Kelly held out her hand with a proper fat little notebook. Its short wide spiral and red plastic cover were so innocent. “It was almost like…”

  “Like she was living a double life.” Taylor longed to rifle through those pages and see what parts of Molly Kay's life had made it into the pre-Coco version of her journal.

  But Kelly bent her elbow and passed it to Graham.

  He grinned, leaned against the wall, and opened it, ready to have a long read.

  Taylor shook her head to get the cobwebs out and started looking through Molly's dresser, though she had a feeling they had already found whatever there was to find.

  “It sounds like Molly thought she might be coming into some money.” Graham was flipping through the pages of the fat little notebook too quickly to be reading it. But he stopped and tapped one page. "Right here it says she was very excited about getting a raise. Is it me or does the kind of raise a kindergarten teacher assistant might get not seem very impressive?" He held out the notebook to Taylor.

  Taylor glanced at it, but her phone buzzed a text. It was a reply to her last message from Asha. But all it was, was a thumbs down. She had sent a string of messages to the missing girl over the morning, but the latest one was a simple, “are you ok?”

  The thumbs down sent shivers up her spine. With shaking hands, she replied, “are you in danger?”

  Asha replied immediately with a thumbs down.

  But did that mean things were bad or that she wasn’t in danger? She took a quick breath and typed, “Is that a yes or no?”

  That got no reply from Asha.

  She tried again, “is thumbs up yes?”

  Asha sent a thumbs up.

  Taylor exhaled. "Hey guys, Asha's replying to my texts.”

  Graham seemed to leap across the room and dropped with a thump on the bed beside her. “What's going on?”

  "I don't know. I'm trying to figure it out." Taylor took a deep breath and then texted, “are you hurt?”

  Asha responded immediately with a thumbs down.

  Taylor switched to voice to text, not trusting her hands to get her messages right. “Are you free?”

  Thumbs down.

  Taylor let out the breath slowly and then said, “Are you in danger?”

  Asha sent a thumbs up and a thumbs down.

  “Is that a maybe?” Taylor asked.

  Asha sent a thumbs up.

  Taylor closed her eyes and attempted to find her laser focus. She needed to find Asha, and that was all. “Are you still with Charles?”

  An immediate thumbs up.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  Thumbs up and thumbs down.

  “Can you help us find you?”

  Thumbs up.

  Thumbs up.

  Thumbs up.

  Taylor jumped to her feet. “We can find her. We need to find her, Graham. Kelly I'm so sorry we have to go.”

  Kelly stared at them. "But what about Molly?" Her voice was soft and scared.

  Graham passed the little red notebook back to Kelly. “Take this to the sheriff. It’s probably full of clues. But we do have to go. This is urgent."

  Taylor grabbed his hand and ran out of the apartment, down the stairs, and into her car. "You have to drive. I'll navigate. We've got to find her."

  "You'd better call the sheriff, Taylor. We do not want to get out there alone." Graham managed to keep his voice cool as he ripped out of the apartment parking lot. He let his driving panic for him.

  "That might make things worse."

  "Why don't you ask her?" It was a good thing there wasn’t a stop light on Main Street, because Graham would have blown right through it.

  Taylor spoke to her phone again. "Asha do we need the sheriff?"

  Thumbs up and thumbs down.

  Taylor tapped a quick K into the phone and called the sheriff's office. Serge answered. She told him about the texts.

  "You've got to get over here. Come straight to the sheriff's office." Though Serge was young, his voice was deep and firm.

  “But shouldn't we find out where she is first?” Taylor asked.

  "Start here," Serge said. "We’re going to save Zsa Zsa, if it's the last thing we do. Just get here fast.” He ended the call.

  Graham interrupted. "It'll be a lot easier if we start there. You can't give him directions while texting her. You get as much information as you can. Okay?"

  "But what if she's close? What if we waste time?"

  "Just ask her.”

  Taylor's head was spinning. She wanted to rush. She wanted to run. She wanted to get this girl out of danger, but she literally had no idea where to go. She went back to voice to text. “Are you close to Comfort?"

  Thumbs down.

  "Were you awake when you traveled where you are?"

  Thumbs up.

  That was a relief. “Did it take more than an hour to get there?”

  Thumbs down.

  “Did you go north?” she asked.

  Thumbs down. Thumbs up.

  "Dammit. I don't think she knows what direction she went."

  "It won't help to panic." Graham took a corner like their lives didn't matter, but he was leaned back in his seat, his shoulders relaxed, and a little crooked smile on his face. He liked this.

  He liked this is much as Taylor did.

  “Did you go east?" Taylor asked.

  Thumbs up.

  Thumbs up!

  "She went east. This means if we head to the sheriff's office, we’ll be going in the right direction. We’re not wasting time. Oh, what a relief."

  Asha sent a smiley face.

  "Me too,” Taylor replied. “It's going to be okay. Serge is com
ing. I'm coming. Graham is coming. You went east from the theater for less than an hour. Did you go up a hill?”

  Thumbs up.

  "Can I try?" Graham asked. He didn't wait for her response. "Ask her what she can see."

  "I don't think she's on her phone. All she has is emojis."

  "Give it a try. She might have an emoji that helps."

  Taylor wrinkled her nose at Graham. She didn't trust this would work and didn't want to waste time but didn't have any better ideas. “Can you see anything that you recognize?"

  Thumbs up

  “This might work!” Taylor leaned forward, straining against her seatbelt.

  “Can you send an emoji that might help me know what that is?"

  Thumbs down.

  "Graham we're going to have to play twenty questions. And I don't like that at all."

  "It’s going to be okay, Taylor. Were almost to the sheriff."

  Taylor was in no mood to throw darts in the dark. She scrolled through the screens of her phone as she tried to think of a yes or no question that would help her locate her friend. The apps screen stared at her, solitaire, calculator, Google docs, Fitbit.

  Fitbit.

  “Are you messaging from your Fitbit?”

  Thumbs up.

  “Good question, Taylor.”

  “Good. So good, Asha. We’ll find you. The sheriff can use it to find you. Hold tight. Be safe. We’re coming.” It was a long message. Asha’s quick response this time was a heart.

  Taylor called Serge back to let him know the good news.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Serge was with Deputy Maria, in the lobby of the sheriff’s office. He stood with his arms crossed, and though his mouth was a grim line, there was a hint of hope in his eyes. We’ve got a good tech guy on it right now. I want to talk to her though, can I?”

  Taylor passed her phone over. Serge hadn’t been an impressive member of the force before. He was slight, not very tall. He didn’t have a memorable face, though the passion in his gray eyes seemed to change that. It would seem, from appearances at least, that he had strong feelings for this girl he called Zsa Zsa. Taylor watched over his shoulder as he texted.

  “Zsa Zsa, did you map your run?”

  Thumbs up.

  Then a frown.

  “This is Serge. We’ll find you. Robby is on it. But is your password easy?”

  Thumbs up.

  “Is it password?”

  Thumps up. Then a smile.

  “It’s okay. That’s good. Did you use 5’s for the s’s?”

  Another thumbs up.

  “That’s my girl, Zsa Zsa, we’ll be there any minute, I promise.”

  Another frown face.

  “Did something happen?” Serge typed.

  A thumbs down.

  “Do we need to come quietly?”

  Thumbs down.

  He turned to Taylor. “What do you think the frown meant?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to be called Zsa Zsa.” The idea just popped out, but both frowns had come after he’d said that. And, if she recalled the vintage bombshell actress, it wasn’t the world’s most flattering nickname.

  “Oh.” Serge flushed. “Asha,” he typed. “We’re on our way. As soon as Robby has the map.”

  A fellow who must have been Robby came storming into the lobby. Rather than the young T-shirt clad tech bro she’d expected, Robby was a stout older man with a bald head and a gray beard. “Got it. Her run map and with the final location.”

  Maria took the paper and led Serge out. Graham and Taylor followed.

  “Asha isn’t technically a missing person yet, is she?” Taylor crossed her arms and tilted her chin up.

  “It’s dangerous.” Serge strode outside with confidence that belied his age and size.

  “But it’s not against the law for us to follow you.”

  He got in the county issued SUV without another word and started it up.

  Taylor’s family Audi pulled up beside her almost as fast—Graham had anticipated their need to hustle if they wanted to follow Serge and Maria to the location their data geek had identified from the Fitbit website.

  The drive was fast and tortuous. Taylor’s stomach roiled at the corners and turns, but eventually they found themselves at the end of a long, narrow, gravel drive in the woods. Despite the dark, shadowy approach, the end of the road led to a bright, cheerful clearing. A freshly painted ranch house with a brick chimney puffing cheerfully, and a series of round beflowered azalea bushes greeted them. Serge parked in front of the house, but Graham pulled back out of the drive and parked on the road, facing the escape. “We don’t know what we’re going to find in there.” He pulled the brake to keep the car from rolling into the woods at the end of the road.

  The brake had barely clicked in place when Taylor jumped out of the car and ran to the little house. Cheerful homes had been the scenes of vicious crimes before.

  Serge was at the door to the house, having a conversation with a tall, handsome, overdressed man.

  The man—Taylor recognized him as Asha’s date Charles—wore a black turtleneck under a creamy corduroy blazer, and skinny jeans. He had brown leather shoes, and small glasses on the end of his nose. His trimmed mustache and hair that was a little too long on top revealed that he was an aging hipster—one of the many in Generation X who didn’t realize they had turned fifty already.

  But there was something about his eyes that turned Taylor’s heart to ice.

  They were large, round, scared, and darted back and forth.

  Taylor took her place next to Serge and Maria as though they had invited her and was in time to hear Charles say, “Yes, I did go to the movies last night. One of my favorite French thrillers. I went with a friend.”

  From the back of the house Asha’s voice cried out.

  He swallowed. “Why don’t you come in?”

  He opened the door wider, and Serge, Maria, and Taylor entered.

  The door opened into a small sitting room and looked straight through into a sparkling clean kitchen.

  “I should have made a police report,” Charles said. “I have my friend here with me. Someone was following us.”

  “Why didn’t you call?” Serge’s hand rested lightly on the butt of his gun.

  Charles walked to a chair. His hand hovered over the back of it, but he didn’t sit, or touch it. “Sometimes, I’m a little paranoid. We came here because she would be safer.” Charles eyes seemed to fix on something behind Taylor.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Sitting on the mantle of the brick fireplace was a framed selfie of Molly Kay and Charles. Taylor’s glance was quick, but she’d have recognized Kelly Kay’s sister anywhere.

  The color drained from Charles face, but for the quickest of moments he made eye contact with Taylor. “I had a fiancé, and she died. So, I may have overreacted, but we were being followed. It was dark, both the evening and the theater, so I don’t know who it was, but they were tall, and wearing clothes that were meant to hide their identities, I think. Dark coats, hats pulled low. They watched us from a balcony at the theater. We left during the credits and by a side door so they couldn’t see us.

  “Where is Asha Szkolaski?” Serge’s voice carried as though he were delivering a speech.

  “I’m back here!” Asha cried out in response. “In a bedroom.”

  “She’s safe.” Charles’s hand dropped to the top of his chair and he gripped it. His knuckles turning white. “I was going to marry Molly, and someone murdered her. Just a week ago. They killed my beautiful Molly. They couldn’t do that to Asha as well.”

  Deputy Maria had slipped into the hallway.

  “She won’t be able to let her out. The lock needs a key.”

  “Why do you have a bedroom with a keyed lock?” Serge asked.

  Charles swallowed. “Sometimes.” He let out a stiff breath. “You just need to protect people sometimes.”

  Charles walked between Serge and Taylor. His proximity sent cold sh
ivers across Taylor’s arms. His steps were slow, but the house was small, and, in a moment, he was unlocking the door.

  Asha flung herself out of the room as though she’d been shot. “My purse. My phone. My things.” She jerked her head side to side looking for the touchstones of communication.

  Serge held his hand out for her, and she flung herself to him. He responded as a young man in love would, wrapping her in his arms, holding her. Whispering things. Taylor turned away.

  Maria was searching the room Asha had just fled.

  “Just a moment.” With the same slow deliberate steps, he went into the other bedroom.

  Seconds later, a gunshot reverberated through the house.

  Asha screamed.

  Taylor spun on her heels and pitched herself into the bedroom.

  Serge pushed past her.

  Charles remained frozen at a window, a small pistol in his hand.

  “He was here,” Charles whispered. “The man who followed us. But I got him.”

  Graham Dawson lay on his face in the grass.

  Taylor seemed to sink into the ground as everyone around her spun like a hurricane. Serge had gotten Charles’ gun, somehow, and was putting it in a plastic bag. Maria had led Charles to the bed where he sat. Asha was pulling on Taylor’s arm. And Maria was on a walkie-talkie saying things about an ambulance and a shooting.

  Asha tugged harder. “Come outside Taylor. Come outside now. He’s going to be okay. He’s got to be okay.”

  But Taylor didn’t move. Her feet were rocks. Boulders. They sunk through the floor. Into the crawlspace. She felt like she was being sucked under the house. Her legs collapsed like those toys with elastic joints who stand firm until their foundation is rocked. When her head hit the carpeted floor, she didn’t know it.

  When she came to, she was alone in the bedroom. A cold wind blew through the open window. She got to her feet slowly. The ache on the back of her skull made her cautious. But she could move again. And she could hear people, outside that window. She went to it drawn like a magnet and felt herself crawling out and landing in the scratching branches of the azalea bushes. She was tangled in the small thin branches of new spring growth.

  A strong, familiar hand reached for her and pulled her out of her mess. She rested her head against his chest, for a moment. Relieved to have someone she knew she could trust. “Oh Reg.”