1. Watch three of mom’s videos for advice clips. That would be forty-five minutes.
2. Call the Kirbys and ask her sister’s bio-family what she could bring to dinner. It was nonsense to think Taylor could host the holiday herself.
And 3. Brainstorm about the murder…
She scratched that off and wrote: Prep the store for Black Friday.
Taylor could brainstorm about the murder after the biggest shopping day of the year.
The card table and folding chair were not the most comfortable way to watch YouTube videos, but at least it made her focus. No snuggling down and getting lost in memories like usual.
In the first video she selected, her mom was showing how to cut old button-down shirts into strips so you could make a father’s quilt. She was using Grandpa Ernie’s old shirts, but she was likely thinking about Todd, Taylor’s father.
Taylor still had his shirts folded and boxed in that room full of old stuff just on the other side of the door. She was supposed to tackle the project, but she couldn’t yet. It had been seventeen years since he had died, but still she waited. Cutting up his clothes was so permanent. She knew he was never coming back. Just like her mom. And there it was, the flood of emotion overwhelming her even though she’d promised herself to focus.
“And that’s the thing about remarriage…” Her mom was still working and still talking on the small screen. “You’re marrying a family with a history. Not just a man. Those adult kids end the thing almost as often as fights over money do. I know you’ll tell me why I’m wrong in the comments, please do because maybe someday I’ll finally meet someone …” Her face had brightened, like maybe she was thinking of someone specific. She was so young—not yet fifty. Her skin was smooth the way only a lifetime of wearing sunblock and living in the Northwest can achieve. Her hair was glossy with only a hint of gray. She and Taylor had reached that age where folks sometimes wondered if they were sisters.
Laura Quinn could have won the heart of any man in the world.
But she’d never remarry now.
Taylor scribbled notes while her mom talked. This wasn’t a good clip for the compilation video. It wasn’t encouraging to hear her say that remarriage is a bad idea. No one wanted to think there was no hope for love after loss.
But her thoughts about adult children caught Taylor’s imagination. Adult children, so claimed her mother, destroyed more second marriages than fights over money. Combine the two? Maybe you get murder.
Taylor made a list of adult children that included Gracie the ex-wife. She was the adult proxy for a child, after all.
Fawn seemed to be deeply grieving, and her husband had a lot of work on his hands now that the genius behind the store was gone. With Art inheriting everything, those two didn’t gain by the loss of Reynette.
What about Jason? A snob as far as Taylor could tell. Someone who surely felt his father was better than Reynette. Who was she, after all? A thrift shop owner who made money online. Not a highly educated academic. He struck her as someone with an anti-social personality disorder. If it was severe enough, he might have decided getting rid of Reynette altogether was the simplest solution to the problem.
And living in town he must have had some access to her food. If Art would just answer their calls, Taylor could ask how often he and Reynette saw Jason.
She supposed she could go to the horse’s mouth and see what Jason had to say for himself, but if he had slowly poisoned his new stepmom, he certainly wasn’t going to tell her about how often he popped by their house to see them.
His girlfriend Gilly from the glass department was another story though.
Taylor shut her phone off, ran down the stairs, and kept running till she was at Comfort College of Art and Craft, her alma mater.
Chapter Fourteen
Taylor barged through the front doors and just kept going. She ran like she was escaping whatever it was that had been haunting her up in the apartment.
“Whoa!” The soft gentle voice of Isaiah who ran the school office stopped her in her tracks. “Taylor, love, you need to check in at the office.”
Taylor turned on her heel and faced her friend. Small of stature, but big of heart, she had known him for many years, since her time as a student, and it hadn’t occurred to her in the almost year she had been home to check in with him. “Sorry. I was just…well, when inspiration strikes!”
He laughed deep in his throat. “Hold on to your vision but sign in at the office.”
Taylor followed him to his domain, an expansive room of glowing golden oak where the accessories had been handmade and gifted to him over the many years of his service. From ceramic lamps and vases to the very desk he worked from. She spotted a new stained-glass lampshade hanging from the ceiling. “Is that from the new department?”
“Yes, isn’t it wonderful? We’re so lucky to have been able to add a department like this. So much beautiful work being done in glass. Chihuly came and spoke last year. He’s an old friend of Gilly Framell.”
“That’s amazing.” Taylor wasn’t kidding. Chihuly was an international superstar as far as glass art went. “I came to see Gilly, actually. Is she in?”
“Yes, I’ll tell her you’re on the way over.” He buzzed an intercom that had been ancient when Taylor was a student.
If Gilly was surprised Taylor Quinn from Flour Sax would come by, she didn’t sound like it.
“Just head out back. She’s in the glass blowing studio which is behind the pottery.”
“Thanks.” Taylor paused, wanting to invite him to lunch, but she didn’t know when she’d have time. She waved awkwardly and left.
She tried not to run down the hallowed halls of art. They were hung with donated pieces from the faculty. Paintings both abstract and realism lined the first hall. When she turned the corner to head to the east side outbuildings, the art on display reflected the fiber arts that had become what the school was known for. Taylor paused in front of a quilt made of scraps left over from wool Grandpa Ernie had used for making suits. Grandma Delma taught at the college one semester when Taylor was very young and donated this piece. It seemed to move, the wool suiting soft and supple like silk. The thin stripes almost invisible but shimmering at the same time. Taylor closed her eyes. She missed Grandma Delma dearly. But she had something to do, so she hustled to the new glass works building.
If she could make herself seem friendly and chatty and welcoming, Gilly would surely tell her all about how her boyfriend Jason was constantly over at his dad’s new place helping out. That’s all Taylor would need to confirm her fears.
Out back Taylor knocked on the door of the new studio. In her day it had been a general studio where students could come work on just about anything. She hardly recognized it now. Massive equipment she had no names for filled the space and brightly colored translucent miracles glowed from every corner. Yes, Isaiah was right, this was a good addition to a good school. “Gilly?”
Gilly was behind a very traditional wood teacher’s desk. She stood, her long lean frame draped in a suit that reminded Taylor of her Grandma Delma’s quilt. Gilly looked up from her phone but didn’t seem to register Taylor’s presence.
Taylor was about to introduce herself when her own phone pinged a text alert. She checked it to give herself time to figure out what to say.
It was from Sissy. “Urgent. Art’s been found. Dead. In the Ocean. Let’s get back there.”
Taylor looked up again and locked eyes with Gilly. Her gut had fallen to her knees and she was frozen. What now? What next? Who next?
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Gilly said. “There’s been a family emergency.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Gilly frowned at Taylor. “No. Why would there be?” Then she turned to a student who was working in a corner. “Please close down everything when you are finished.”
“Of course, Gilly!” The student smiled brightly.
Taylor had left her car parked at Flour Sax. She w
ent there first, then headed to Sissy’s. She didn’t agree it was time for another trip to the coast today, but she needed details and Sissy seemed to have them.
Sissy was waiting on the front step of her house. Taylor had barely got the car in park when Sissy jumped in.
“The ER at Tillamook.”
“Slow down. What’s going on?”
“We need to go to the ER in Tillamook. That’s where Art is.” Sissy spoke breathlessly and wrestled with the seat buckle.
“If he’s at the ER, are you sure he’s dead?” Taylor’s own heart started to calm. Not dead was very good right now.
“I only know what Gracie told me. Let’s get out there.”
Taylor didn’t have any good reason not to go, so she rushed to Tillamook, another town on the other side of the coast range mountains, but about an hour and a half away.
The hospital was small like the one nearer to home and they found Gracie pacing the emergency room waiting area.
Sissy was in no condition to talk—her features contorting back and forth between rage and confusion, with just a hint that she was about to break down in tears—but that didn’t stop her. “What’s going on? You said Art had been killed.”
Gracie was pale, ashen even. “No, not killed. I said they’d found him, and it was awful.”
Taylor doubted that was exactly the way Gracie had put it. “What’s going on?”
“He was wandering the beach, soaked head to toe, in a daze when a lady found him. He had a big bloody bash in his head. She called 911 immediately and they brought him here.”
“How did they know to call you?”
“He had my card in his wallet, so they called it.”
“Didn’t check his phone?” Taylor asked.
“It was soaked. Just destroyed, I think.”
“When he was found he was walking, walking, but with a head injury. Is this for sure?” While she spoke, Taylor led Sissy to the chairs. She couldn’t make her sit, but she tried.
The three women stood in a tight triangle, facing off, the tension palpable.
“That’s how they found him, but nobody knows what happened. His skull is cracked. He’s confused. They’re treating him for that, and shock, and hypothermia and everything.”
“But he’ll live?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know! I don’t know.”
Taylor didn’t know how they had beat Jason and Gilly to the hospital, but Art’s son and his girlfriend pushed through the door that moment. They had both lost their reserved polish somewhere on the drive to the coast and rushed the desk full of questions.
“Excuse me.” Gracie held up a hand as though Taylor had been in the middle of something, and went to Jason.
She put the same hand on his back. “Jason, I’m so glad you made it. It’s just awful.”
He turned to her, his eyes blazing, and shook her off. “What did you do to him?”
“You’re mistaken.” Gracie took a step back. “The hospital called. There’s been some kind of accident.”
“I don’t believe you. Dad doesn’t have accidents.” Jason flexed his jaw. His eyes flamed.
“He was on the beach. I don’t know. He fell maybe and hit his head on a rock. He seems to have fallen in the ocean at some point because he was soaked and close to hypothermia when he was found.”
“Then he didn’t hit his head on a rock, did he? This beach is sand as far as the eye can see.”
“He wasn’t out here. He was back home in Neskowin. Plenty of rocks there.”
“Not in the ocean.”
“High tide, Jason. It must have happened during high tide.” Gracie reached for him, then pulled her hand away as though he were hot.
Taylor swallowed. Had Art been in that encroaching surf as Sissy and Taylor stood there watching or had those ominous waves just been hungry for him?
“You’re in shock, you need to sit,” Gracie said.
“We’re hardly in shock.” Gilly had managed to calm herself down and spoke to Gracie with scorn in her voice. “And we’re not fools either. Someone killed this man’s wife and now he’s in the hospital.”
Sissy stormed to Jason and Gilly. “How dare you speak of my aunt!”
“Calm down. I’m only here to help Jason.” Gilly stretched out her long arm and placed a rather elegant hand on Sissy’s sleeve.
Sissy jerked away.
“Why don’t we all sit down, take a breath. We need to calm down and focus on what really matters.” Gracie stepped between Sissy and Gilly.
“Excuse me?” Gilly raised an eyebrow at her.
“Stay out of this. This is a family matter,” Gracie’s voice cracked.
“A family matter, is it Mother?” The scorn in Jason’s voice as he said that word was palpable.
“That’s enough, Jason. Let’s discuss this like adults. We all need something, maybe a cup of coffee.” Gracie’s face had reddened, but Taylor was impressed with her resolve.
“Where’s Guy? Why aren’t you letting him fight your battles for you?” Jason asked.
“This is not a battle. We’re all here for the same reason—for your father.”
“You mean my father’s money?”
Taylor caught Sissy’s eye. This was the first time she’d heard that Art might have means.
“You’re speaking of your mother’s money. Your father has never had two dimes to rub together,” Gracie spoke quietly, her eyes tired.
Jason smirked. “And that’s why you left him. If he didn’t have money, you didn’t need him. I’m right, aren’t I?”
She swallowed roughly and tears sprung to her eyes. “This is not the time.”
“That’s always your answer, isn’t it? It’s never a good time for you.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “No, Jason. It will never be a good time for me to run away with you.”
The room seemed to freeze at her words. Silence, even from the front desk.
“I never wanted you. I loved your father, but it didn’t work out.”
Jason slowly opened his mouth as though to refute her claim, but she stopped him.
“You never could take a hint. Or a gentle rejection. ‘It’s not the right time for us’ was the nicest thing I could think to say to my husband’s disgusting son who was trying to have an affair with me. But is this really what you want us to discuss right now, at the hospital while he might be dying?”
Gilly’s lip curled subtly in disgust. Her eye was on Jason.
Taylor could picture the scene so clearly, the twenty-year-old bride of the middle-aged professor. His son, meeting stepmom for the first time. The envy, the frustration. Jason was a cold intellectual, but he was still a man. How could his father fall for someone like that? An empty-headed beauty after a life with Jason’s mom, who Taylor was sure he only remembered as perfection herself. And if his dad could have her, why couldn’t he?
The scene in her head made her gag.
Jason’s face was red, but his mouth was clamped shut. The light was gone from his eyes. He had disassociated from the scene in front of him, or at least it looked like he had. He wasn’t going to acknowledge her accusations.
Sissy was at the desk talking to the medical assistant. After a moment she sidled up to Taylor. “Let’s get out of here. Art won’t be able to see anyone for quite a while and, when he’s ready, who knows what he’ll remember. If we’re lucky, our call will be the last one on his phone records and the cops will want to talk to us.”
Taylor exhaled through tight lips. How was she supposed to help Sissy untie a knot like this? “I don’t know if that’s luck or not. It would certainly be lucky if we could get more out of the cops than they want to give.”
Sissy shook her head and her jaw flexed stubbornly. She wasn’t any happier with their long drive to Tillamook for nothing than Taylor was.
They returned to the car for one last trek over the mountains for that day.
“I’m not saying you’re bad at detective work,” Sissy
said, “but you don’t seem to be getting anywhere, and I’m going to get everything out of those cops that I can.”
Taylor could only agree with the condemnation of her detective skills. She wasn’t one. She was a shop owner who really needed to implement the huge marketing scheme she’d been dreaming up.
Taylor was lost in these thoughts as they drove back and almost didn’t notice her phone ringing.
“Can I get that?” Sissy held the phone out.
“What, yes. Sorry.”
“Yes?” Sissy put the phone on speaker.
“Taylor? This is Gracie. I can’t get a hold of Fawn and Art is asking for her.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Sissy didn’t correct the mistake. She hung up and grabbed her own phone. “Head to Reynette’s. I’ll text Fawn that we’re coming.”
Taylor did as she was told and exactly twenty-seven minutes later, they were at the door of the grand Victorian place Art had planned on sharing with Reynette.
“Is Fawn staying here now?” Taylor asked as they got out.
“Art asked her and Montana to stay for a while. He didn’t want to be alone.”
Sissy let herself in.
Interesting that Art hadn’t just gone to stay with his own son who lived in town. Maybe he knew Jason had tried to seduce Gracie all those years ago.
“Fawn? Fawn?” Sissy hollered her way through the house.
“Up here!” The voice of her niece came from the second story.
They found her in the work room surrounded by secondhand clothes.
“What are you doing?” Taylor asked as she stared at the mess.
“I’m not going to quilt any of this stuff, so I’m making bundles to donate to the shelter in Portland. Lots of homeless right now.”
“True.” Taylor sat on a folding chair and watched her sort the clothes that had been boxed by color and texture into piles by size and season, or at least that’s what the new piles looked like.
“Fawn, why would Art be asking for you from the hospital?” Sissy stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
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