Fruit Basket Upset: A Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mystery

by Tess Rothery

  When she paused, Taylor let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  “When we got to his house, he helped me off with my jacket and said let me hang these up for you. I didn’t want to give him my phone or my purse or anything like that. I'm no fool. But he was bigger and stronger than me and I didn’t know he was going to lock me up. Lucky for me his WI-FI didn’t need a password or anything and my watch was really a Fitbit, so I gave that a try and it worked. So, once we got to his house, he took me to that back bedroom and said something about getting me a drink. I heard the key lock the door when he shut it, and I'll be honest, it was a relief. I was pretty scared when he brought me to the bedroom. But he never came back, which was also good because there was no way I was drinking anything he brought me. I let myself fall asleep, which might've been stupid, but I waited a really long time first. I was getting text message alerts on my Fitbit and it took me a while to figure out how to respond to them. I had some auto responders set up, which was a good thing because that was my only way to communicate.”

  "I'm sure you've told the police all this already." Grandma Quinny sounded condescending and bored.

  Taylor was shocked. She was personally mesmerized by the story and wanted to hear every detail.

  "What we really need to know is what Molly was doing the day before we found her body. You say she might have been out with Jack or she might've been out with Charles. Was she one of those girls that posted everything on social media?" Grandma Quinny asked.

  "She used to, but Coco doesn't let the girls use social media. She made me promise that so long as I was seeing one of her clients, I wouldn't either." Asha smiled. "I promised, but I didn’t mean it."

  “Where did she like to get her coffee?" Taylor asked. It seemed like a simple way to turn the conversation back to Molly. She thought if Graham were awake, he'd be proud of her. It would be easy to check a small local coffee shop. They’d have remembered a girl like Molly If she was a regular.

  Serge nodded approvingly.

  “She loved Cream and Sugar, it’s in McMinnville not far from her apartment. They had her favorite drink, and she swore that no one could make it the same.”

  "How many locations of Cream and Sugar are there?" Taylor had never heard of that particular coffee shop, so she hoped there was just the one.

  "And what was her favorite drink?" Grandma Quinny asked.

  "I don't know how many there are. Maybe just the one she liked on Main Street. She swore they were the only ones who could make a good Almond Roca latte.”

  "Almond Roca…" Grandma Quinny mused. "Serge, tell me you see what I'm seeing."

  Serge nodded. "Maria and Reg talked to everyone on her normal routine. The head teacher in her classroom, her neighbors in the apartment complex. They’ve been to Cream and Sugar several times, but Molly wasn’t there that afternoon.”

  "Who's been leading the interviews?" Grandma Quinny asked.

  "Reg,” Serge said.

  Grandma Quinny turned to Taylor. “Call him.”

  Taylor’s phone was already out, and she was texting him.

  His reply was immediate.

  "He says it’s the only location and there’s no security camera, but they swear they know her, and she wasn’t in that afternoon." Taylor tapped the screen of her phone. And then said, "What kinds of things did you do after coffee?"

  Asha chewed her bottom lip. "When I hang out with her, we get coffee, and she likes to um exercise. We both do. I should have been with her. I shouldn’t have been at work that day.”

  “You weren't her babysitter. You don't have to feel sorry about that." Taylor tried to comfort the girl. "But when you say she likes to exercise, do you mean she went to the gym, after coffee?"

  "We all liked to hike. Molly, Coco, me, and Kelly too. We like to hike down by Bible Creek when we’re here, but if we went to Cream and Sugar, we go to the park with the mushroom house? Do you know the one I mean? And we go around the trail like a million times.”

  "What if she was having an afternoon date?" Taylor asked.

  "She didn’t tell me everything about her life, but she did say that they liked to go to the park. She said that Jack could keep up. He was really fit."

  "What about Charles?" Serge asked.

  "Charles didn't like coffee," Asha said.

  Taylor was on the edge of her seat now. The coincidence of arsenic poisoning and almond flavored latte was too big to ignore. And if Charles didn’t like coffee, then it had to have been Jack. "Who else, Asha?” Taylor nudged. "Who else did Molly like to go out with on an afternoon?”

  "Arsenic can kill immediately," Grandma Quinny interrupted, "or it can take ages."

  Asha shrugged. “I don’t know who else. If not me or Jack, or Kelly and Larry, then maybe she went alone.”

  "It's okay,” Serge said. "You're doing a good job. Kelly's alibi checked out and we’ve got Charles in custody. Just because he didn't like coffee, doesn't mean he didn't like to buy some for her. So far Jack’s alibi has checked out as well. He was in Portland having dinner with his son the night Molly died."

  Taylor shook her head. "But that's not good enough. Not if arsenic could kill any time."

  "Don't forget, she was buried in the farm that night, no matter when she died," Serge defended his position.

  "Who says she didn't go to dinner with him? Just him and his son? Can his son be trusted?"

  “He'd be on his dad's side. He’d want to protect him,” Asha said.

  "Would you?" Serge shook his head in confusion. "I wouldn't. If I had evidence or suspicions that my father had killed someone, I would be honest." He swallowed and a look of sickness crossed his face. Taylor thought she was seeing the moment in a young man's life when he realized he was a liar. Lying to them, and willing to lie to save his dad. "At least, if I was sure. If I was sure he had done it, I would turn them in."

  "And if you weren't sure?" Asha pressed. "What if Jack's son wasn't sure?"

  "Arsenic can take a while, but what if it had worked quickly? If Jack poisoned Molly’s drink and she died instantly, he might have hidden her body somewhere. Then he could have gone for dinner with his son as an alibi. He could have buried her at the farm any time after dinner," Grandma Quinny stated flatly.

  "Have you abandoned the idea that Charlotte did it?" Taylor asked her grandma.

  "Not abandoned. Just pursuing all logical options. Charlotte seemed to know way too much, but Jack would have known where to hide the poison. But which of them would have wanted her dead?"

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ingrid Quinn’d had enough of talking. She was ready for action. Charlotte had made an appearance to direct their eyes to the message left with Molly Kay’s body. If she was the killer, then she had done that because she needed her genius recognized. But the odds of the killer making two such appearances were slim. She’d want attention, but not too much. And yet Ingrid needed to talk to Charlotte. Not talk to her. Interrogate her. But to draw Charlotte out again, she’d need someone Charlotte couldn’t say no to.

  Asha would've been perfect, if what she wanted was to draw out Jack Groening, or any of those other dirty old men. But there was no way a wronged wife would come to the help of a fresh-faced blonde like that one.

  Belle seemed like an underutilized resource. She was standing next to the cart, which overflowed with snacks. Things like crackers, cheese, sausages, even sandwiches, but no one was eating. Belle looked fed up with the group. Maybe it was because she’d taken time to make it so nice, or maybe she was just petulant. Ingrid never could be sure with that one. But either way, Belle could certainly convince someone she had a problem. On the other hand, she was healthy. The millions of dollars she and Jonah had gleaned from some unfathomable online endeavor suited her well.

  No, Belle couldn't draw the sympathy of a woman like Charlotte Jessup.

  Ingrid turned to her granddaughter Taylor. At thirty, Taylor was still young. Anyone Ingrid’s age would acknowledge that
. Probably someone pushing fifty like Charlotte would as well. And she looked tired. Ever since she’d moved home from Portland, Taylor had had those dark circles under her eyes. Her hair, while a lovely straw-blonde color, was limp and her face wan as though she had forgotten how to apply blush. Yes, if you wanted to draw the sympathy of a motherly woman like Charlotte, Taylor was your best bet.

  “Come along, Taylor. Let's go.” Ingrid headed outside, knowing full well that her granddaughter would follow her. She didn't even question it. Why would she?

  And yet she stood at her car for a full minute before she realized nobody was coming. Ingrid looked up at the house with its awkwardly unbalanced windows and chimneys, the house that they had all called haunted when they were kids. The house her parents remembered from their childhood as quite a stately home. Nonetheless, anyone who loved architecture would laugh at the idea that this place was the best Comfort had to offer.

  She considered all of this, but still Taylor didn't come.

  Ingrid grabbed her phone and sent a text: “get out here.” She waited ten seconds.

  Taylor didn't even respond. Now rather annoyed, Ingrid strode back in. "Taylor Quinn. Let's go.”

  Taylor had a small plate resting on her knee with sausages, cheese, and crackers.

  "Do you not realize how close we are to the resolution of this situation? For the sake of that poor dead girl. Let's go."

  "Can I get you something Grandma Quinny?" Belle asked with a smile. “Look at poor Taylor, she’s been starving. And we’ll all do better work after we eat a little.”

  That hungry look in Taylor's eyes was half of why Ingrid wanted her right now. "Bring it with you. We’re in a hurry."

  Taylor slowly and methodically layered a sausage, cheese and the second sausage on top of her Ritz cracker and ate it. She dusted the crumbs from her fingertips onto the plate and stood. "I'll be back Belle, sorry for leaving my casualties here."

  "No big deal. Jonah said we’ll take care of them.” Her words were friendly enough, but Belle scowled at Ingrid.

  Ingrid decided to lift her ban on eating in the car and let Taylor in with her plate. "Jack Groening sounds like a very likely suspect as far as opportunity goes. But why on earth would he want to kill his favorite girlfriend? Charlotte Jessup, on the other hand was very keen that we should get the message that had been left for Coco. We’re going to collect her and ask some pointed questions. And you,” Ingrid looked Taylor up and down again, "are the bait for my hook. No warmhearted, motherly figure would turn down a plea for help from you."

  It was a rather long drive out to the Jessup's house, and silent but for Taylor's slow and careful chewing. Ingrid tried not to watch. She had a nice little vacuum and plenty of grandkids who would clean out her car for a few dollars. But Taylor did an exceptionally good job eating crackers without making a mess.

  The Jessup's lived at the end of the long driveway, as did many people in the exclusive Hops Hills development. Ingrid parked at the end of the driveway where her car could not be seen by the door. "Go get her any means necessary. Tell her how badly you need help. Got it?"

  "Got it." Taylor lingered in the car looking at her grandma as though she had a question to ask. "Do you think she really—” Taylor stopped herself midsentence and got out.

  Ingrid wondered as well. Did she think Charlotte had really done it? She just didn't know. Why would anyone murder someone over sex? Infidelity wasn’t a capitol offense. Divorce the man and take him for all he’s got, but don’t kill him, or his lover. Death was so unnecessary.

  In mere moments, Taylor and Charlotte came running back to the car. Charlotte looking as worried as Taylor was supposed to have looked. As though she had been following carefully laid out directions, Taylor helped Charlotte into the back seat and shut the door.

  Ingrid smiled to herself. Child-safe door locks were a wonderful invention. Charlotte wasn't getting out of this car anytime soon. “Ingrid!" Charlotte strained against the shoulder strap of her seatbelt. "Taylor didn't tell me she was with you."

  "No, we felt that was for the best." Ingrid drove away from the development where custom homes reigned over their two-acre parcels. And then she kept going. Nobody said anything for quite a few minutes as they tooled down the highway towards the foothills. She took turns onto smaller and smaller roads till she was on a narrow logging road that took them deep into the woods, up the mountain. Her granddaughter gripped the arms of her seat and Ingrid smiled again. This was exactly the atmosphere she wanted to create. This would work just fine. There was no shoulder on the logging road, just a steep hillside empty of trees on the left and a matching slope rolling downward on the right.

  “Taylor, you told me you needed help. That your sister was in trouble because of Coco. What’s going on?” Charlotte’s voice quavered as she spoke.

  “We’re in trouble because of Coco, aren’t we?” Ingrid dismissed the issue. “Now, Charlotte, why would you want someone like Molly dead?”

  “What are you talking about?” Charlotte’s voice was a high, scared squeak.

  "I didn't ask how you did it or when. I just asked why you would want it.”

  Charlotte didn’t respond.

  “Molly wasn’t the one dating your husband, after all,” Ingrid pressed.

  Ingrid watched the woman in the mirror as she looked from side to side and the color drained from her plump cheeks. "I've just been such good friends with Sarah for so long,” Charlotte finally said. "Her boys and my boys grew up together. Sure, we only had Robert's boys on the weekends, but we had plenty of sleepovers. And I was the mommy making the cookies, ordering the pizzas, and renting movies. Sarah and I planned all of it. I love my Robert with my whole heart, but Robert and Jack weren’t the ones arranging play dates over the last two decades. It was me and Sarah."

  "And so, Molly had to die," Ingrid stated.

  "No, Grandma," Taylor interjected. "That’s illogical. Sarah remarried ages ago. She didn’t have any reason to be jealous of Molly and Jack.”

  "Exactly.” Charlotte sighed in relief. “Sarah was happy with Dustin. Why should she care about Jack and Molly? They even had Thanksgiving together. If anyone should have worried, it would be the boys, or maybe their wives." Charlotte gave a nervous laugh. "Daughters-in-law, right? Molly was younger than them. Their husbands had to notice how pretty she was. If nothing else, it would have given them ideas."

  "You're saying Sarah liked Molly just fine?" Ingrid asked.

  "She liked her as well as anyone that you would only see once or twice a year. They did Thanksgiving together and that's the one time she met her."

  "What did she tell you about the girl?" Ingrid asked.

  Charlotte's words came out slowly. "Molly wasn't very bright. But what fifty-year-old man is looking for a smart girl? She had all the things Sarah had come to expect in girls that Jack brought around."

  "How many other ladies had he dated?" Taylor asked.

  “And what was different about Molly?" Ingrid wasn’t happy with Taylor’s interruptions. They’d have to talk about that later. Unless it was planned in advance, an interrogation worked better as a one on one. Taylor was only here as bait.

  "He didn't date a lot. Not the kind of girls you bring home. He could find people to go with him to corporate events or to take a vacation with. But Sarah hadn't had to worry about her boys having a stepmom." There was a pause. "Sarah and Robert's first wife Margot hadn't liked each other much. And it did take me a minute for Sarah to warm up to me. But I was never the other woman, and neither was Molly."

  "You know you dodged my first question,” Ingrid said. “I’m not really in the mood for my questions to be dodged. Why did you and Sarah want Molly dead?

  Charlotte unbuckled herself and slid to the center of the bench seat so that she could lean forward. "I don’t know what you’ve heard, or who you heard it from, but we say things we don’t mean all the time. We’ve got to blow off steam now and then. Like on a mom’s wine night. Times like that.
We say things to make each other laugh, or just to take the edge off. And maybe we did say death to all the pretty whores. So what? Maybe we agreed that we’d like to drown them like a bag of kittens. Again, so what? That’s all we ever said, if you heard we said anything. Those sugar babies were pretty and dumb, like kittens.”

  Next to her, Ingrid heard Taylor snicker.

  "Was Coco someone you wanted to stick in a bag and drown?" Taylor asked.

  "She was sleeping with my husband, what do you think?" Charlotte slumped back in the seat exhausted by the admission.

  "And so, you killed Molly and left a message for Coco. A sort of, ‘You’re next?’” Ingrid asked.

  "I'm glad you believe she was left as a message at least, but I didn’t hurt anybody. I couldn’t. But someone left that girl there, and that person is dangerous."

  "Was that person, Sarah?" Ingrid asked.

  "No. I swear to God it wasn't. And I'll tell you why. Because Molly wasn't a kitten. She was a mama cat. Once we found out about Larry, we changed our tune. We’re mamas. We protect the babies." Charlotte did not seem to notice the dissonance between drowning a bag of kittens but protecting babies. No matter what else they were, those girls who used Coco’s website were somebody's daughters.

  "How did you hear about Larry?" Taylor squirmed in her seat. She was getting too excited. Ingrid needed to calm her down and get control of the conversation back.

  "Jack had a letter from Molly about him. I don't think he meant his son to see it, but Trevor was working at the house one day and ran across it on his father's desk. He told his mom that his dad's girlfriend had a son. It was pretty jarring news, to be honest. I mean, Jack had left her with two tiny baby boys to raise on her own.” Charlotte clucked in disapproval, ignoring that her own husband had left the woman who’d had his sons. “When Sarah called me, she was nothing but sympathy for Molly. Molly probably thought she’d found a rich man to raise her kid. But we knew Jack. Now that he knew about that boy, he wouldn’t keep seeing Molly. Jack just doesn’t like kids.”