by Tess Rothery
“But I can’t.” Charlotte stared out the window. “Your grandmother has made some promises,” Charlotte’s tone made it clear she meant threats, “that prevent Robert and I from reporting her actions.”
“She wouldn’t really blackmail you, would she?”
Charlotte sighed deeply but didn’t respond.
Taylor truly hoped it wasn’t black mail, because that implied letting one criminal free for the sake of catching another, and her conscience couldn’t handle that. She’d have to discuss it with her grandma as soon as possible. Perhaps she’d turn the Groenings in if Grandma Quinny’s own sense of justice wouldn’t let her.
Taylor found her grandmother having a laugh with Sheriff Rousseau in the parking lot of the office. A laugh.
Taylor stared.
“It took you long enough,” Grandma Quinny scolded, with a wink.
Charlotte nearly leapt from the car. She hustled to the sheriff’s side as though she were scared of Taylor’s grandmother.
“Don’t fret,” Grandma Quinny soothed. “I’ve confessed all. I even admitted to extracting confessions from your foolish husband while he was under the influence. But that’s no crime. And no, Coco wasn’t underage. If you’re truly scared he’s committed that crime, then you and the sheriff should definitely talk.”
Sheriff Rousseau looked into the distance, as though he couldn’t face Charlotte. “I’ve already sent one of the guys with a warrant for Robert’s computers.
Charlotte seemed to sink into herself. She didn’t say anything, but her hands went limp and her phone fell to the ground.
“You two come with me.” The sheriff turned without waiting for them. “I’ll take your statements.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sarah Harper hadn’t put quite enough arsenic in the coffee she’d brought her ex-husband. It had been touch and go, but he was still alive the next morning, and doctors were optimistic. Ingrid heard the news from Taylor who’d gotten it from Graham that morning before she left. He’d been calling from his sick bed for the article he needed to turn in. Not long after getting the news, Ingrid Quinn welcomed Dahlia and Asha Szkolaski into her formal family living room. She was struck again by the beauty of the two women. Asha, a bright blonde with dewy skin and large eyes. Her mother, the more mature, sophisticated version of the same. A little world weary, maybe, but in the way that would earn her meaty movie roles. No longer the ingenue, but still a heart throb.
“You said you would pay my Yoanna for the terrible things that have happened to her.” Dahlia did not sit in the chair that Ingrid had indicated.
“I thought it might be appropriate for me to cover some of your school fees, perhaps,” Ingrid addressed Asha directly. “I’m sorry for what happened to you in your attempt to help Coco.”
“You don’t need to.” Asha looked around the room, her eyes wide as though it was somewhere far more impressive. “Coco paid me plenty. I couldn’t believe it. And it wasn’t even for like, to be quiet or not tell on her or anything. She told me it was an experience. I mean a learning experience. The whole thing has helped her with her business.”
Dahlia said something in a stiff, angry voice to her daughter.
“Oh Matka, I didn’t. That’s so gross.” She turned to Ingrid and rolled her eyes a little. “As if I would with someone that old! But she’ll never believe I wasn’t like, um…” Asha blushed.
“When you say Coco learned from this…” Ingrid sat on the edge of her stiff, formal sofa.
Asha took the seat across from her while her mother went to the fireplace to consider the portraits on the mantel. “She’s got some other stuff on the website now. I think she called them CYAs. And background checks for the men, though I don’t know how that would have caught Charles Holden. Serge said Charles had told them he bought the keyed doorknob right after we set up our date, and the story checked out. So, a background check wouldn’t have helped at all. But she’s also giving the girls safety packs now. They have these cool stir sticks that can tell if your drink’s been drunk. No, doped. And also, a rape whistle, though a whistle wouldn’t have helped me when I was all alone in his house. And mace, which could have helped, I think. For your keychain. I think some other stuff. She’s sending me a pack, but Serge asked me not to try again.” She blushed deeply.
Ingrid was seething on the inside but kept her face calm. This girl was trouble. She only hoped Serge could marry her. She needed someone to look after her. And as for Coco…the long talk with the sheriff yesterday had revealed she’d been raking in the money with this website. She was closing in on the kind of money Belle and Jonah had. With that as the situation, there was nothing left for Ingrid to do. Coco had to move out. She hated failing, but she wasn’t letting a business like that put a pallor on her home.
Dahlia turned to Ingrid. “Todd Quinn…he was your son?” Her face was lightly pink.
“Yes, do you remember him?” Ingrid sat up.
Dahlia nodded. “He’s been gone twenty years now, but I don’t think any of us girls ever forgot him. I moved here when I was just out of high school. Before marrying Paul. We met later, when I went to Chicago for college. Todd Quinn was just starting to be a fireman. So handsome.”
Ingrid’s heart grew very warm for this woman. “Please, your daughter won’t let me help, but I have to do something.”
“Yes, you should do something.” Dahlia turned back to the mantel of pictures.
They were at an impasse. The two women agreed money should exchange hands, but that young thing sitting across from Ingrid was perfectly content with what she already had. Foolish child.
Angus joined them with a tray of tea. “Ingrid,” he whispered. “It’s a good thing Belle is bringing Ernie home to us. Washington State’s got a limit on visitors to nursing homes. You know Governor Brown’s going to follow suit.”
Ingrid’s hand flew to her throat.
“I just wish we could have convinced Boggy to come too.” Angus sounded frustrated.
“Cheryl convinced him to leave her sister Maggie’s place in Willamina to stay with her at Hudson’s place,” Ingrid said.
“At that one-bedroom place? That’s crazy. Maggie has a lovely, large home. Where’s Hudson?”
“He went back with Kelly and his son. I suppose Cheryl must be sleeping on the sofa.” She smiled a little though it didn’t come from her heart.
“I see.” Angus turned to Dahlia. “Tea?” he asked.
“What is this you are saying about old folks homes?” Dahlia asked.
“Washington is limiting visitors. I’m thinking it’s coming here soon too,” Angus explained.
Dahlia spoke to her daughter again in Polish.
Asha stood. “Thanks for offering me money. That’s pretty nice of you. But we have to run. My babusia—my mom’s mom—is in a nursing home. We need to see if we can get her out quick. We have a big house, lots of room for her. Thanks for everything.”
Dahlia tugged on her daughter’s arm, and they left.
Angus settled next to his wife on the bench. “Don’t worry about them right now. You’ll figure out how to make it right. You always do.”
Ingrid stared at the mantel full of family pictures. All she’d ever done was try to make things right. But Angus’s news had lain heavily on her heart. This virus was one thing she was not going to be able to fix.
“I can’t believe you abandoned me here with those two.” Graham was lying on his side on a large, overstuffed sectional in the cozy family room of Belle and Jonah’s mansion. A sports talk show was playing on the fifty inch TV that hung on the faux wood paneled wall. “And they cancelled March Madness yesterday. I know this virus thing is bad. I’m a journalist. I know everything. But March Madness? It should be a crime.”
“It’s saving lives,” Belle yawned, bored with the conversation.
The night before, after giving her statement, Taylor had gone home with her Grandma Quinny. Sheriff Rousseau had gone with them, and he and Coco’d had a ve
ry long talk.
Taylor had stayed the night pondering life, love, and murder.
Who was this grandmother of hers who abducted people and interrogated them? Who was this teen girl who was so good at doing something that seemed so bad? In the “chat” with the sheriff, it had come out that Coco was almost as rich as Jonah now. So close to a million dollars.
The money men would pay for the company of young women.
Her website was already helping her “friends” connect all around the country. Her claims that she was just a local girl helping friends meet each other had been true in the beginning, but it had only taken a few weeks for the site to explode online.
It made Taylor feel old.
And through all of that, she really had forgotten Graham Dawson. Just completely forgotten the man who’d taken a bullet to his bottom for this story.
When she remembered him, it came in a flood. His crooked smile and floppy hair. The clumsy love making. His doped-up eyes. The cane. The limp.
Grandpa Quinny had snuck up behind Grandma Quinny and kissed the back of her neck. Grandma had seemed to shiver in response.
That’s what had reminded Taylor of Graham.
Of the man who wanted first to make sure that Taylor knew how to get to the root of a story. Wanted it more than her personal safety.
She had slipped out of the farm that morning right after giving her grandma the news from Graham.
“I have to go home,” Graham told Taylor. “I’m not excited. It is going to be incredibly painful. Stephanie and her husband Tim are coming by. We’ll have to caravan to get my car there. But at least I can be as high as a kite for the drive home. Maybe I’ll sleep.”
Taylor stroked his forehead lightly, moving his floppy bangs out of his eyes.
“You’ll come see me, right? You can follow us. I’ll need some proper nursing this weekend.”
Belle glowered at him. Perhaps the night with Graham, Grandpa Ernie, and Jonah had been too much.
“I have a few things to take care of here. How’s next weekend?” Taylor asked, looking at her sister.
He checked his phone. “Next Saturday. March 21st, 2020. It’s a date. You drive up to Portland, and I’ll show you the town. We’ll go to the best restaurant I can find. Maybe book a room in a hotel that has a hot tub.” He winced.
“I’ll come to your place and nurse you. You’ll lie on your side while I fan you and feed you peeled grapes.”
He laughed. “You’re the best. But I should be in far less pain next week. Come to Portland. We’ll eat by the river. Somewhere rich people go. We’ll do a little window shopping. Downtown Portland is the safest city in America with the best restaurant scene on the West Coast. You’ll come, right?”
“Nothing could keep me away.” She leaned her head back on the arm of the sofa and closed her eyes, enjoying the picture. Maybe 2020 would be their year. Maybe they’d have many, many weekends together in the city. Hitting all the hot spots she’d never had time to go to when she lived there. Seeing the sites like a visitor. He was right, it was a safe city. It had a homeless problem, but surely that would improve this year.
Everything had to get better in 2020.
Taylor’s pieced together a new family, but it might come apart at the seams in this bonus scene. Click here to get your free short story, Christmas in July, when you sign up for my newsletter!
Ready to get wrapped up in the next Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mystery?
Taylor and Belle are doing the best they can during the pandemic, but someone else has planned a killer quarantine.
Order your copy of Good Bones, the seventh Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mystery now!
Taylor Quinn is excited to support her sister’s dreams. Turning Belle’s derelict mansion into a history lovers’ destination might not be Taylor’s thing, but helping family always is. Even if it means spending the weekend with an old enemy.
Taylor’s ex-best friend isn’t the only difficult personality in the group, but the mansion is the perfect place for a socially distanced getaway. Unfortunately, virus-exposure turns their weekend into a fourteen-day quarantine. Tensions rise as the women find there’s not nearly enough room for them and all their baggage. When tempers snap, someone ends up dead.
Can Taylor expose the murderer before this escape kills them all?
Good Bones is the gripping seventh cozy in the Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mysteries. If you like small towns, tight-knit families, and motives with deep roots, you’ll love Tess Rothery’s tangled tale.
Buy Good Bones to dig up an old grudge today.
Did you jump in the series in the middle? Check out book one, Assault and Batting!
Taylor Quinn had a good job and a cute boyfriend in the city. But when her mother dies suspiciously and she rushes home to take over the family’s small-town quilt shop, her whole world unravels. Discovering her grieving young sister blames herself, she vows to prove everyone’s innocence.
In way over her head, Taylor’s investigation pulls a thread of quirky suspects, a tight knot of envy, and a patchwork of gossip. But as she weaves the evidence together, she unwittingly reels in the killer’s attention…
Can Taylor sew up the case before everything comes apart at the seams?
Assault and Batting is the first book in the delightful Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop cozy mystery series. If you like classic puzzles, poignant family relationships and heartwarming surprises, then you’ll love Tess Rothery’s tangled tale.
Grab your copy of Assault and Batting here!
About the Author
Tess Rothery is an avid quilter, knitter, writer and publishing teacher. She lives with her cozy little family in Washington State where the rainy days are best spent with a dog by her side, a mug of hot coffee, and something mysterious to read.
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