Good Bones: A Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mystery (The Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mysteries Book 7)

by Tess Rothery

  “I understand your need to talk it out.” Sissy placed a warm hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “But all we could do is guess. You need to talk to Aviva if you want to know about her boyfriend, and Jeanne if you want to know about her marriage.”

  “And I need to talk to Lorraine herself if I want to know how she’s holding together, don’t I?”

  “Yes.” Sissy guided Taylor back toward the stairs. “But take what she says with a grain of salt. She’s not reliable in the best of times, and these times are not the best.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A quick text from Grandma Quinny the next morning hinted at failure. Maddie’s husband wouldn’t let me in. Covid. Took the casserole. Taylor suspected rejection like that was rare for her grandma, and the reason she didn’t get a call. She thought of calling her back, but to what end? The answer to this murder had to be in the Boone-Love House, didn’t it?

  The return of Aviva’s waffles, strawberries and cream was a relief. Taylor was afraid if it was oatmeal again, there’d be another murder. She’d added sausages that must have come from John Hancock, and a selection of single serve flavored coffee creamers that seemed like they had come from the family diner.

  After the food was served, Taylor ran down to the kitchen to have Aviva to herself.

  “Were you able to sleep better after Sissy came back last night?”

  “Yes, thanks. It’s funny, but that door lock means the world to me right now.”

  “Nothing funny about that. Until we know who killed Maddie, all of us will want that extra layer of protection. I’m glad I’m sharing with Belle, as well. Being alone is such a vulnerable feeling.”

  “I don’t know how you live in your house all by yourself. Especially all these socially isolated months.” Aviva filled her large stainless-steel mixing bowl with hot water.

  “It’s been so long since I lived with anyone, I can hardly remember. I mean anyone but Grandpa Ernie, and that’s different.”

  “Seems like it would still be nicer than being alone,” Aviva said over the noise of her faucet.

  “Do you have a roommate?” Taylor asked.

  “Yeah, a friend from college. Mom was horrified because it’s a guy, but I like it. It feels safe.” The water stopped and Aviva began to scrub.

  “Any romance potential there?” Taylor filled her coffee cup and sat on a stool out of the way. She’d help with the rest of the dishes.

  “I don’t think so…” Aviva drew the last word out.

  “That’s how Clay and I fell in love. He was a good friend for a long time and needed a place to live. Once he moved in, it was almost instant.”

  “I wouldn’t call Alex an old friend. We only met about a year ago.”

  “How did you meet?” Taylor was trying to build the picture slowly, not rush if possible.

  “You know Asha? She introduced us. She knew him from a math class they’d taken together.”

  “Do you have feelings for him?”

  Aviva turned and leaned on the edge of the sink. “I thought I did….” She blushed. “I’ve got to get this off my chest. I hope you don’t hate me for it.”

  “I won’t, I promise.”

  Aviva shook her head. “You might. Alex asked me to do something for him, and it seemed harmless…”

  “Not anything illegal I hope!” Taylor tried to sound as though she didn’t know what was coming.

  “Not necessarily. It’s just…okay, see….” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Then she bit her lip. “You are going to hate me. I know it. But I can’t help it. Alex hates Maddie Carpenter. Hates, hates, hates her. Blames her for some stuff that happened to his little sister. So, he had me do the things with the bones. I only thought it would annoy her. I was okay with that, but she seemed so scared. I stopped and told him I wouldn’t do any more, but he got mad. So…yeah. I’ve kind of gone off him now.”

  “Why chicken bones?” Taylor thought back to their first kitchen conversation about the bones. It was just a couple of days ago, but it felt like a different lifetime. “You asked that the first time. Were you trying to get us to see the message?”

  Aviva nodded. “Yeah, I thought the sooner you understood, the sooner I could stop. After Sissy brought that downstairs, I knew I was being a fool. Who else could it have been but me?”

  Taylor gave her one of those soft, close-mouthed smiles that you offer sad people.

  “Alex’s sister was seeing Maddie for an eating disorder. He wanted me to leave chicken bones around Maddie because his sister had been skin and bones. Still is. She was supposed to go to a residential facility, but it closed its doors to new patients after the shut down.”

  “That’s rough. Is she okay?”

  “Are you ever okay with an eating disorder? She has a new counselor she talks to twice a week on Zoom. I hope it helps. I don’t know her, but Alex really loves her.”

  “And you don’t love Alex after all.”

  Aviva shook her head. “No. I don’t know what I thought would happen if I did this. I told him the guest list one night, and when he heard Maddie Carpenter, he came up with all sorts of plans for me.”

  “Was murder one of them?”

  She swallowed. “Not stabbing, but he did float the idea of poison.”

  “Aviva…”

  “I thought he was just venting, you know? Didn’t think he meant it. He had me slip that note to her, but I didn’t read it first. I didn’t know he called her a murderer.”

  “Why didn’t you read it?” Taylor fought against impatience.

  “Because I knew it would be bad, I think. But I didn’t want to know how bad. If I didn’t see it, I could pretend, right?”

  “You’ve got to tell the sheriff. Come on.”

  She didn’t move.

  “He’ll be rough on you and might think badly of you. But if Alex murdered Maddie, he has to be arrested. You know that, right?”

  Aviva hung her head.

  They walked slowly upstairs. Neither of them feeling good.

  No, Taylor didn’t hate Aviva for it, but she thought it would be hard to like her going forward.

  Sheriff Rousseau and Deputy Maria took Aviva to the little office.

  Taylor was at a loss for what to do next.

  If Aviva had been responsible for the bullying, then who had broken the rooster bones last night? Had that person been the murderer? She wanted to kick Aviva out of the office so she could talk to the officials. She considered calling Grandma Quinny for tips on getting people to talk. Instead, she wandered into the parlor.

  Lorraine and Jeanne were seated comfortably with porcelain cups of tea and their needlework.

  Lorraine was hemming a second handkerchief that matched the elaborate trim she had created the first day.

  Jeanne was putting her initials and flowers on the front of her needle book.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Jeanne said. “I couldn’t find anyone, so I went to the kitchen and made some tea.”

  “Probably smart. I was with the sheriff. I don’t know where Sissy or Belle are.” Taylor didn’t volunteer information about Aviva. “Have you been able to contact your family?”

  Jeanne shook her head. “I’ve left several voicemails for my husband but haven’t been able to connect. I don’t know why.” A shadow crossed her face.

  Taylor sat up a little straighter. “Have you been quarantining together?”

  “Yes, and it’s been a bit harder than I had expected. Neither of us had ever worked from home before. Plus, our daughter moved back in when her college shut down. She’s a scholar, working on a literary research project.” Jeanne laughed and shook her head. “It’s not that we don’t like her, but we’ve been used to having our place all to ourselves for a little while now. And of course, she’s a daddy’s girl. But aren’t they all?”

  Lorraine looked up with concern. “Do you feel that there is an imbalance in the relationship between yourself, your daughter, and your husband?”

  �
��Definitely.” Jeanne wasn’t cowed by Lorraine’s demeanor.

  “There always was between Tansy, Phillip, and I as well. Phillip raised her more than I did. Being in a home with siblings was seen as a good idea, and I often traveled for work.” Lorraine stitched almost robotically as she spoke. “Tansy was always closer to her father, but I would do anything for her. I suspect it is the same for you.”

  “If by ‘anything’ you mean kick her in her keister and tell her to get back to work on her project, then definitely. Our biggest fight is always over how little she does in general. Not just around the house, but on this supposed project of hers. She claims she can’t access the resources she needs, but what is the internet for if not just that?” There was real annoyance playing in Jeanne’s eyes as she stabbed her felt needle book.

  “It all depends on what resources are needed. Materials accessible on the internet have probably already received as much academic attention as necessary. For new work of scholarly merit, surely she needs to be able to travel and see documents in person.”

  Jeanne laughed. “It almost sounds like she gave you a transcript. The morning we found Maddie’s body, I did speak to Terrance, but not since. I wish I could. He’s so reasonable. Unflappable even. He’d help put my mind at ease.”

  “I know the feeling.” Taylor also longed for the man in her life who could put her at ease, though…did Graham do that? Did she feel easier after talking to him about crime or just energized to get the job done? It didn’t matter. It was a good feeling, and she missed him. “Lorraine, have you had anyone to talk to? We’re here for you, you know.”

  “I am so fortunate to have my daughter here. Thank you.”

  Taylor didn’t have her own work basket or a cup of tea to occupy her hands. But she gave herself another moment to consider the women. Jeanne did strike one as comfortably normal. Normal problems at home. Normal comforts from home. Lorraine was being herself. At least the Lorraine that Taylor felt she knew. She was self-contained. Closed off while sober. It must be a comfort to have Tansy here. As far as Taylor knew, Lorraine had no one else. No parents, no siblings. No other close relationship to turn to when in crisis.

  But that wasn’t the same as having no one. She may have “no one else” but she did have her daughter.

  As far as things went, in this situation, she liked what she saw in this room, and let them continue with their tea and stitching.

  She’d like to have a word with Tansy, if possible. Carrying your mother’s concerns for her is hard. Maybe hard enough to find yourself smashing decorations just to let off some steam.

  It was long after dinner before Taylor found herself alone with Tansy. Deputy Maria and Sheriff Rousseau had interviewed everyone one at a time again. When it was Taylor’s turn, all she could do was say she’d learned nothing new since last night. They dismissed her without revealing any of their own cards.

  That evening Taylor and Tansy were drawn to the outdoor fire. Belle had invited everyone for smores and cocoa again, but most of the guests had preferred Sissy’s offer of a movie in the family room.

  The sun was only just setting, and the air was filled with the summer evening scents of fresh mown grass, hose water on hot asphalt, and smoke from the new baby fire they had just lit.

  “How are you holding up?” Taylor asked.

  Tansy looked into the distance where the sun was beginning to set behind the Coast Range Mountains. “Not well, to be honest.”

  “Seems like you have a lot on your plate right now.”

  Tansy turned to Taylor. Her brows were pulled together. It took a moment for her expression to relax. “Yes, but we all are.”

  “I was just thinking about how it must be stressful to be away from your kids. And then you have to worry about Pyper and your mom here as well.” Taylor didn’t want to say straight out that Lorraine wasn’t well, but that was the whole point of the conversation.

  “Sometimes it’s hard to remember Pyper is in her twenties. She doesn’t act like it. But Sissy is here, so I don’t feel responsible for her. As for my mom.” Tansy took a deep breath. “I don’t think she’s sleeping, but she seems in control, don’t you think?” Tansy’s tone pleaded with Taylor to agree.

  “I do. It has to help that we are a dry event.”

  Tansy offered a half smile. “She sounds like she’s losing it when she drinks, but in fact, that is what’s running in the back of her mind at all times. It’s just that the alcohol frees her to speak.”

  “I was glad the sheriff took some time to talk to her. It must be such a relief to be heard.”

  Tansy shrugged. Her eyes were rimmed in dark shadows. Smoke was blowing her direction and that could be blamed for the tears in her eyes, but probably wasn’t the cause. “I never know. We’ve all played the ‘take her seriously’ game before, but there is no mysterious serial killer, so what’s the point? Acting like we believe her doesn’t bring her back to reality.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Tansy closed her eyes. “There’s nothing anyone can do.” Her words came out empty and final. A devastated sentence.

  “That can’t be true.” Taylor leaned forward. “You have friends. We can help, I’m sure.”

  Tansy stood, crossed her arms, and looked towards the hills. “I just have to think of my kids right now. Mother is an adult and will have to face her own consequences.”

  Taylor shivered as Tansy left. There was so much hurt in those words. But when a parent hurts her children, be it by abuse or neglect, there were consequences. And only Tansy knew where that boundary had to be drawn.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Taylor stayed by the fire until the coals burned out.

  There was some kind of madness in the Boone-Love house.

  The emotional dismay that led to the destruction of those innocent rooster bones distressed Taylor. It made it real that one of them was out of control—and that one of them was a murderer.

  Jeanne showed no signs of distress. In fact, she seemed calmer than she should considering the threat to their health from the virus and their safety from the unsolved murder. But if that disregard for her own safety was madness, it was a different kind than the emotional agitation represented by the destruction of the good bones.

  Then there was Courtney. It seemed reasonable to Taylor that a woman like her might be losing grip on her emotions. Someone who would homeschool as many children as she did must highly value being in control. Even if it sometimes felt like chaos, it was chaos of Courtney's own creating. Here she had no control at all. So why was she so calm?

  It would have been reasonable to suspect Belle of having smashed her good bones. She was the one whose hopes were falling apart around her ears. Everything from her dream business to her young marriage seemed to be under threat. And the bones were hers. Who better to have dragged them out of the case and smashed them to bits? But Taylor would've sworn that nothing had been damaged in the library before bedtime. And she had been with her sister until the discovery of the damage. Belle's own surprise at seeing the damage could be dismissed. She was young and if she had done it, she would've been embarrassed. But it was impossible. Belle just wouldn’t have done it.

  Aviva had already confessed to so much it seemed silly for her not to admit this as well.

  Pyper seemed immature enough to handle her frustrated emotions by smashing things. It would be worth asking her about it. But when the question was madness, there was only one person who truly fit the bill.

  Lorraine Love.

  And if her daughter was setting strict boundaries for her during a time of severe emotional distress, it might have led her to a brief emotional breakdown.

  Taylor dragged the hose from behind the azalea bush and sprayed the dead embers of the fire before she went back inside. Sheriff Rousseau and Maria had not been keeping her in the loop as she would've liked, so she felt no obligation to check with them before hunting down Lorraine.

  She stopped by the littl
e office to check the register so she could confirm which room was Lorraine’s. Lorraine was staying in the room to the left of Maddie. The one the mystery girl had been crying in. Pyper had the room on the right. Had Lorraine been the weeping woman? Or maybe she had been the comforter.

  Taylor’s heart beat hard and fast as she mounted the stairs to the guest bedrooms. She'd never allowed herself to call Lorraine Love a madwoman before, but the old-fashioned nature of that phrase filled her with fear. A woman with paranoia issues and post-traumatic stress disorder was someone to be concerned for, to care about. Maybe even to protect. But a madwoman was someone to fear. She almost turned away at the door, but she rallied. She’d faced greater danger than this before. She knocked lightly, rather too lightly if she was being honest.

  Lorraine flung the door open immediately. “Taylor?" Lorraine stared at her bleary-eyed. She wore a light cotton bathrobe and stood barefoot on the wooden floor. "What's the matter? Has something happened?"

  "May I come in?" Taylor asked.

  Lorraine opened the door widely and led Taylor to the small seating area in the large bedroom. Lorraine's room featured a faded velvet fainting couch and a brocade wingback chair in colors that matched.

  The bed was covered in a Round the Twist quilt in muted colors that Grandma Delma had made near the end of her life. It was tucked in sharply like a hotel maid had come through, though in this time of virus and social distancing, the guests maintained their own housekeeping. Lorraine sat on the edge of the fainting couch towards the side with the rolled back.

  Taylor sat on the wingback unconsciously mimicking Lorrain's posture. “I was just concerned about you. I know you don't feel alone because you have your daughter to talk to, but anyone could use a friend.” She smiled but it felt forced, and she knew her cheeks were quivering.

  "It's quite late." Lorraine had obviously not been sleeping, but she was right. It was after ten, and since the murder, the guests sought the privacy of their rooms well before that.