Revenge Is Sweet

by Kaye George

  “If you find out anything important, the police should know.”

  “Of course. But I’ll tell you first.” Mrs. Gerg left, happy to be on an important errand.

  Tally and Allen got tacos from a taco truck and carried them to the park since the evening was lovely, soft and warm, with no rain. The cicadas were full volume, and fireflies winked in the shrubbery nearby. The whole time they were sitting on a bench under a large live oak tree, making small talk and crunching their tacos, Tally was wondering how to bring up the subject of gambling. She couldn’t get the sight out of her head of all those lotto tickets fluttering to the floor. If he had a gambling problem, he probably had money problems. His statement that they weren’t all for him hadn’t rung true. He’d said himself that he didn’t know many people here. When he mentioned that, it made her wonder if he would stay or leave.

  “Will you stick around here after you finish up your work?” she asked.

  “I’m as finished as I’ll get. Gene’s father said he wouldn’t pay me what I’m owed, so I’m not doing any more of Gene’s work. That would be stupid.” He paused for a moment, glaring at the grass beneath their feet as if he wanted to burn a hole in it with his eyes. Or did he want to burn a hole in Josef Faust, Gene’s father? He looked up at Tally, and his expression softened. “But if you or Yolanda need any adjustments, I can do that. Is your refrigerator working okay?”

  “Yes, after it got that new thermostat part, it’s been perfect. Where do you think you’ll go?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “As usual, I have no idea. I’ll tumble down the road and see where I end up.”

  “That’s the life my parents lead. They wander the world and never settle down. I decided I can’t do that. I need to put down roots somewhere.”

  “Here?”

  “Why not? I like this town. I do actually have roots here, since I lived here once.”

  “There are plants that take their roots with them. Did you know that?”

  Tally thought for a moment, chewing a mouthful of delicious flavored meat, cheese, lettuce, and crunchy taco shell. “What, besides a tumbleweed?”

  “A lot of different plants end up as tumbleweeds. All that means is that it’s a plant that breaks off and tumbles when it’s dry. One kind came from Russia, Russian thistle, and one is called tumbling oracle, and another name I’ve heard is wind witch. They don’t really take their roots with them, but they take seeds that put roots down when they land somewhere. I like to think they take their future roots with them.”

  “How do you know so much about tumbleweeds?” Maybe there was more to Allen than she had thought.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve been called one so many times, I’ve looked them up. After I learned a little about them, I didn’t mind being called that.”

  “Don’t you ever want to have a family? Do you have a family you’ve left behind?”

  “I don’t ever miss them. They’re not worth it. And no, from what I know about families, I’m better off without one.”

  His last, forlorn statement hovered in the air above them. Tally could almost see it in the darkness. He must have had a bad family. She was sorry for him. And again, she was so thankful for her own, weird and quirky as they were.

  “Some families aren’t so bad,” Tally said softly, feeling the need to defend hers. “Some are warm and loving and supportive. You know, you can make your own family, find people like that and surround yourself with them.”

  He stood abruptly. “Not likely.” He threw his empty taco wrapper into the trash can next to their bench as hard as he could. She saw that his jaw was clenched. In anger? She leaned away an inch or so, frightened by his rage—it seemed to come and go in a flash. As if to confirm what was in her mind, he gave her a warm smile and held out his hand for her wrapper, to throw it away for her.

  He walked her home, but she didn’t make an effort to converse much and neither did he. They said good-bye on her porch without touching. By the time she was in the house with the front door locked, she was having serious reservations about going out with Allen Wendt again. There was something scary under his good-looking surface. Maybe tumbleweeds should be avoided, because they tumble on out of your life. She was sure, from their conversation, that Allen would eventually move on.

  She knew she shouldn’t be, but she was bothered that the Zimmers had had a wake for Mart and didn’t invite her. Did they think she had killed their daughter? Maybe they hadn’t had a wake. Maybe Mrs. Gerg thought that’s what it was, but it wasn’t. She checked every online site she could think of and searched every string she thought of, but didn’t find any mention of it.

  She washed up and changed into her PJs. The house was empty except for the cat. Something bothered her about the silence, then she realized she didn’t hear her grandmother’s clock. She padded into the living room to wind it, then wandered into the kitchen. Cole had left a note on the kitchen counter: Out with Dorella. Be in early. Love, Cole.

  It was sweet the way he always signed his notes with “love.” She always did the same thing with family. They all did. She sat in the dark, dangling a string for Nigel, waiting for her brother to come home. What did she think about him seeing Dorella? Since she didn’t know much about her, it was impossible to form an opinion. All she knew was that Dorella had dated Gene and was angry with him the day she came into the shop the day he was…

  That was the day he was killed. And she was angry with him. Did she kill him? She could easily have gone around to the alley, entered the kitchen through the unlocked back door, stabbed him, and left without anyone seeing her. So far, no one had come forward as a witness to his killing. No one had even seen anyone going in or out around the time of his death.

  Nigel gave her a pointed stare because she had stopped moving the string. Or maybe his look was because no one had fed him. She got up and went to the kitchen to check his bowl. Sure enough: empty. Poor Nigel.

  She heard the front door over the clatter of kibble going into Nigel’s metal bowl. The cat daintily started extracting bits of his food from the bowl so he could eat them off the floor. He’d done that before. Tally made a mental note to get a mat to put under his bowl.

  “Hey, Sis! Did you have a good night?” Cole came in and carefully set a bag on the kitchen counter.

  “Not all that good, but I’ll tell you about it later. What’s in the bag?”

  “Wait till you see it. Dorella made you something. She thought you might like it.”

  “Me? Why is she giving me anything? I don’t even know her.”

  Cole drew a gorgeous iridescent blue vase from the sack. It started out nicely rounded at the bottom and tapered to a graceful narrow opening that was slightly asymmetrical at the top.

  “It’s beautiful,” Tally said. “But why did she send this to me?”

  “She says she has lots and she wanted to give this one to you. Maybe”—he got a sly look on his face—“she wanted to get in good with me.”

  Tally picked it up, being careful not to drop it. “This looks handmade. Expensive. Why would she have a lot of them?”

  “Oh, didn’t you know? She’s a potter. Works at Potter Paradise on Main Street.”

  “Really? I thought you said she works at Burger Burger.”

  “She’s part-time at each place.”

  Tally turned the vase around, liking it more and more. “Thank her for me, okay?” She set it in the middle of the kitchen table to admire.

  “Sure will. I’m meeting her after work tomorrow.” He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and motioned her into one, too. “But tell me about your night. What’s the matter?”

  “I’ll tell you, but first, can I ask you a question about Dorella?”

  “Sure.” Cole kicked off his shoes, and Nigel, already done with his food, raced over to sniff them. Then he jumped onto the table and started batting
at the vase.

  Tally grabbed it and put it on the counter. She would keep an eye on it, though, and later move it to the mantel beside her grandmother’s clock. Nigel had never jumped up there.

  “How much do you know about her? About her and Gene?”

  “I don’t want to know much about that. Why would I?”

  Nigel pawed the inside of one of Cole’s shoes.

  “Why was she so angry with him when she came to my shop?”

  He bent down to stroke the huge cat. “What are you talking about?”

  “The day Gene was killed, not too long before I discovered him on the kitchen floor, Dorella came in looking for him. She was furious with him for some reason, said to tell him she wanted to talk to him. I never delivered the message.”

  “Look, Sis. All I know is that she was seeing him. But so was every other young woman in this town. I’ll bet they were all mad at him at some point.”

  “Cole, what if you’re seeing the person who killed Gene?”

  He shook his head. “Okay, how was your day?”

  “Mrs. Gerg stopped by.”

  “With another valuable handmade, authentic carved chest?” Cole had asked about her growing box collection and she’d told him about her generous, but odd, landlady.

  “Yes, unfortunately. Very authentic this time. Authentic plastic.” She showed him the large, shiny red box. “But she said something that bothered me. Did you ever meet Mart’s parents when you were seeing her?”

  Cole shook his head. “It felt like they didn’t want me in their house.”

  “Why not?”

  “They think they’re somebody. Only the upper crust is invited in. That’s what I gathered from Mart. She didn’t exactly say she was ashamed of me, but she let me know her parents wouldn’t want to meet someone like me. She even used that phrase, ‘someone like you.’ Weird, huh?”

  “Maybe that explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Mrs. Gerg thinks they had a wake yesterday, and the mayor and his wife, plus some other people were there, but I wasn’t even informed, let alone invited.”

  “Sounds about right. I wouldn’t worry about that. What did you do tonight?”

  “I went out with Allen again.” She told him about Allen’s own frightening flashes of temper and his obvious gambling. “He has no love for any of the Faust family, father or son.”

  “And…you think you might be dating Gene’s killer?”

  Tally kicked herself mentally. It wasn’t possible that she and Cole were both dating his killer. Only one person had murdered Gene Faust. She couldn’t suspect everyone who had ever known him. “I don’t know what to think.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. How was she going to clear Yolanda…and Cole? She was getting nowhere.

  “Let’s consider that. Who has the worse temper, Dorella or Allen?” he asked.

  Tally kicked herself again, harder. Why had she brought all of this up? “I don’t know Allen well enough to know how bad his temper can get. But he has one, and he loses control of it in front of people.”

  “Hmm. That doesn’t sound good. He’s also strong, works with his hands.”

  “It doesn’t take much strength to stab someone.”

  “True,” Cole said.

  They both thought for a moment, with the loud rumbles of Nigel’s purring for background music as he kneaded Cole’s shoes.

  “How bad is Dorella’s temper? Worse than Allen’s?” Tally asked. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Whose temper would flare up high enough to kill someone?”

  “Or high enough to kill two people.”

  Tally closed her eyes. “I’m tired and going to bed. Gotta work tomorrow.”

  She remembered to put the vase on the mantel on her way to bed.

  She had decided. She was not going to go out with Allen again. And she couldn’t tell her brother how to live his life. Cole would have to decide about Dorella for himself.

  Chapter 17

  Tally didn’t have to act on her decision the next day. She didn’t hear from Allen at all. She did hear from another handsome man, first thing in the morning, but not one she wanted to hear from—Detective Jackson Rogers. When her phone trilled, she was in the kitchen of her shop pouring syrup over the sugar into a pot to begin to boil for Clark Bars. It was all Tally could do to keep from throwing her phone into the sink. But she interrupted her candy making to answer when she saw his ID, knowing she had better not ignore him. After all, he was the police.

  He wanted her to come to the station again to answer questions. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was a suspect. When she got to the station, he started in as soon as she sat on the hard chair beside his desk. At least she wasn’t in an interrogation room.

  “We need to go over everyone who was in the shop when Gene was murdered,” he said, looking terribly serious.

  Tally frowned. “I’ve told you everyone.” She racked her brain trying to remember exactly whom she had listed. “Who did I say?”

  “Allen Wendt, Andrea Booker, Martha Zimmer, Yolanda Bella, and Dorella Diggs. But Ms. Diggs didn’t go into the kitchen.”

  “That sounds about right.” Then she remembered talking to Cole last night and straightened in her chair.

  “You thought of someone else?”

  The man was way too observant. “I guess I did. Not someone else, but something else. I just learned about this. Dorella wasn’t there at exactly that time. She came in earlier, and she was…looking for him.” Was Cole going to be upset that she was implicating Dorella?

  “Yes, you said that. Do I have to beat the information out of you?” He smiled to soften his words, and she couldn’t help but return his smile.

  Tally took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Well, Dorella…at the time, I’d never met her, didn’t know her at all. I only knew that she was looking for Gene and he was busy in the kitchen part of my shop. I didn’t want her in there since she was a complete stranger at the time.”

  “Is she no longer a stranger?”

  “Not exactly. She’s dating my brother. And he’s told me she has a terrible temper. And she was angry at Gene that day. She could have gone around to the back door. It wasn’t locked.”

  “I have contact information for your brother. Is he still around? Still in town?”

  Oh great, now she was going to get Cole more deeply involved in this mess. What could she do, though? “He’s only in town for a few days.”

  “Where is he staying?”

  “He’s staying with me.” Of course he was. He was her brother.

  “I’d better catch him quick, then.” His gray eyes twinkled. Was she noticing how good-looking he was because she’d decided not to see Allen anymore? She shook her head slightly. She wasn’t the kind of woman who always had to have a man. Was she? She never had been, and didn’t want to start being one now.

  Tally got up to leave and went two steps before Detective Rogers called her back.

  “You know, I’d like to meet you for coffee after this case is over.”

  She smiled before she could have a second thought about it, then turned and left. That last bit was unexpected.

  * * * *

  Yolanda was called to the station that morning, too. From her car in the parking lot, she saw Tally leaving and scrunched down slightly in her seat, hoping Tally wouldn’t notice her there. When her friend was gone, Yolanda hurried across the lot to the main doors. She didn’t want anyone to know she was still being questioned.

  In fact, she had dressed all in black for the occasion. For one thing, she wanted to be clear that she took this business seriously. Her usual bright colors might not convey the gravity needed today. For another thing, she didn’t feel cheerful about this and couldn’t bring herself to dress in anything but black this morning.

  Her lawyer’s
black Mercedes was close to the door. Her father had called him and insisted he be there with her. It was no use to resist him. At least he had agreed to use Larimer Lackey, and not import someone from Dallas. That would have drawn way too much attention to her.

  She halted with her hand on the door. If Tally had just been here, did that mean she was a suspect, too? Or was Tally giving them information about her own best friend, Yolanda? She shook her head and yanked the door open.

  Larimer Lackey III was in the foyer, wearing his usual three-piece suit, even though it was summer. He was a little taller than Yolanda and had a gray-streaked goatee, maybe to make up for the fact that the top of his head was shiny and devoid of hair.

  When an officer had dragged in an extra chair and Yolanda and Lackey were both seated by his desk, Detective Rogers looked at her with cold steel in his blue eyes. They were the color of a shiny gun, she thought. He started right in on her.

  “Tell me again what happened that day.” He bent over a thick notebook.

  She wasn’t going to ask what day he meant. She knew that well enough. Her lawyer nodded. “I went out through the kitchen and saw Gene on the floor.”

  “You saw him. Had anyone else in the shop seen him at that time?” He looked up and raised his eyebrows.

  “I don’t think so.”

  He scribbled a note on his notepad with a stubby pencil. “Then what did you do? Did you react?”

  She took a deep breath and chewed her lower lip. Then she dabbed her drippy nose with a tissue. It was time to tell them everything so they could find the killer. She didn’t glance at Lackey III before she spoke, in case he would try to stop her. “I saw my ribbon scissors sticking out of him, so I knew he’d been killed with them.”

  She heard Lackey suck in his breath sharply.

  “Do you think he was killed in your shop?”

  She had already told him this. “I had left my scissors in Tally’s kitchen. I’d forgotten all about them.”

  “But you recognized them.”

  “Of course.”

  “How?”

  “They’re mine. I recognized them.”