by Kaye George
Other thoughts, the ones she was trying not to think about, gave way to her worry about Greer’s mother. That poor woman in that horrible nursing home. Tired as she was, Tally got up, changed into shorts and a T-shirt, and made herself go visit the woman. She refused to think about this trip serving as an excuse to not see her own parents.
Nigel protested with chirps when she headed for the door. He turned his back on her with his tail held high and stalked off into the bedroom.
The smell was even worse than she remembered. It hit her immediately when she went through the front door of the Setting Sun. She walked to the registration desk and asked if she could see Mrs. Tomson. The middle-aged woman behind the desk frowned.
“There’s no one here by that name.”
“I saw her Friday, day before yesterday. Has she left?”
“No one left this weekend. Our population is stable for now. In fact, we’re full. No one is coming in or going out.”
“I saw Mrs. Tomson. Her daughter was here and we both talked to her.”
The woman shook her head. “No, no Mrs. Tomson.”
“Could you double-check?”
She gave Tally an exasperated look. “I know all the residents. I don’t have to check anything.”
Was the woman not Greer’s mother? Greer had told Tally so many lies, maybe this woman wasn’t her mother after all. Tally tried once more. “Maybe she has a different name. Greer Tomson’s mother.”
The woman’s brow cleared. “Oh, Greer’s mother. Her name isn’t Tomson. It’s Samson.”
There probably weren’t two people with daughters named Greer. But there was something about that name. What was it? “Can I see her, please?” Tally kept to herself that she was probably going to make trouble for them, eventually, if the woman wasn’t being cared for properly.
“She’s in the TV room.” She summoned a young woman standing nearby.
“Of course.” With all the other zombies.
“I can show you the way.” The young woman with apple-red cheeks, dressed as an aide, came forward and told Tally to follow her. “That’s her, over there. I’ll let you talk.”
After the aide’s smile to Greer’s mother lit her pretty face, she left them alone and proceeded down the hallway.
Tally found a folding chair, pulled it over, and sat beside her. Greer’s mother was in a wheelchair today. Tally attempted small talk, but Mrs. Samson only smiled and nodded at everything she said and didn’t seem to understand her words. Were they overmedicating her? Tally wondered. She leaned in close to smell the woman, to see if she was in need of changing. Mrs. Samson smelled of baby powder, which relieved Tally. She did seem uncomfortable, though, squirming and shifting her weight. Just because she was powdered didn’t mean she didn’t have pressure wounds. Greer had mentioned that.
Tally studied her face. Maybe she was on a powerful painkiller, explaining her vacant expression. Tally did have to consider that the woman had no idea who she was. Maybe she would be more expressive if she knew Tally. To the older woman, Tally was probably just some strange person who sat next to her and started chatting.
On her way home, her mother phoned.
“They’ve let him go again.”
Tally puffed out a breath of relief. “That’s good.”
“No, it’s not. Wendell has been seen in the area.”
“The one who burned your store, right?” Tally said.
“Yes, the man who escaped. The police told me he’s been seen in the area.”
“And they let Dad go because of that?”
“Yes, Wendell has a much better reason to want Fran dead. The detective also told me what killed her. Finally. Nicotine poisoning. Your dad had no access to that.”
“Nicotine poisoning? What does that mean? Ground-up cigarettes?”
“No, he explained that there were massive amounts of it in her system. It probably came from those refills for the fake cigarettes. If Wendell Samson is around here, he could have had something to do with Fran’s death.”
Samson. Vaping. Tally’s mouth hung open. Her mind patched the pieces together. She was hit by a flash of comprehension.
Samson was Greer’s mother’s name. Wendell Samson was her father. The pieces clicked. The puzzle came together like a perfected blended recipe.
She realized with a sudden clarity that she had seen Greer with her father, in the park, both of them vaping. That fit better than any explanation so far.
“The Whoopie Pies contained nicotine,” her mother was saying. “Someone put it in them at our reception. Everyone knew all four of us would be there. Wendell must have gotten wind of our gathering somehow. We are all his enemies, according to him.”
“I know how it was done,” Tally said. “His daughter is working for me. Greer Tomson is really Greer Samson. Her driver’s license has been altered, and I bet it was to change her last name. I even saw her in the park with him, using those vaping things. I’ll bet she’s the one who told Jackson that Dad was close to Fran all evening. I have to call Jackson right now.”
She dialed his cell, but he didn’t answer, so she called the station and left an urgent message for him to contact her, no matter what time it was. Greer was scheduled to work tomorrow, Sunday. What should she do if Jackson didn’t call her back tonight?
The rest of the drive home was a blur, her mind whirling with the disturbing thoughts running through her mind. She managed not to nearly run over anyone this time. Her mother, her own mother, had actually blurted out the blackmail details to the police. She could have predicted that would get him arrested again. Had Len admitted to the blackmail? She couldn’t picture that.
Molly and Greer weren’t the only ones who had problems with their mothers.
A painful thought shot through her mind like a bullet. Her mother and Len. Her parents had said that they had switched partners long ago. Who were these people? It was so hard to picture her parents doing that. They had all been in business together. It must have created an incestuous atmosphere.
Then the employee had burned the hardware store, killing another person, whom her parents had not taken care of like they’d promised.
Jackson returned Tally’s call as she walked in the door of her house. Her living room smelled so pure and clean after the nursing home.
“Tally? What’s so urgent?”
“I know what happened. It was Wendell Samson.”
She heard his long-suffering sigh through the phone. “No, it was not Wendell Samson. He was nowhere near here when Fran was poisoned.”
“Not him in person. His daughter. She did it for him.”
“His daughter?”
“Greer, who works for me. She’s his daughter. I just figured it out. Her mother is named Samson. In Setting Sun nursing home.”
There was a moment of silence. “He does have a wife in a nursing home here. We’ve lost track of their daughter, though.”
“She’s going by a different name. She calls herself Greer Tomson. She gave me an altered driver’s license for identification when I hired her. I saw her with Wendell in the park. They were both vaping. You need to arrest her tonight.”
“Tally, I can’t do that. I have to check things out. First, I have to see if she actually is his daughter.”
“I can show you the copy of the falsified driver’s license.”
“Having a fake ID isn’t enough to get you arrested for murder. Let me work on this. I promise I’ll look into it.”
Tally felt her heart hammering at the thought of working with Greer the next day. “Can you arrest her tonight, though?”
Another exasperated sigh. “No. I cannot arrest her tonight. I can’t get anything done that fast. Relax. Let me look into it.”
Tally paced, much to the consternation of Nigel, who meowed at her to sit down and furnish him a lap. She was too distraug
ht to sit still. How could she work with Greer when she knew—yes, she knew—that Greer had poisoned Fran and tried to pin it on her own parents? And with no thought of who else might have died from the poisoned treats.
Could she fire Greer? Then she wouldn’t have to work beside her. But that might anger the woman and endanger Tally’s own life. Was Greer waiting to finish off the other three who hadn’t been poisoned on her first try? How would she do it? When?
She went to bed, but was soon flopping over for the hundredth time, to Nigel’s great distress. She threw off the covers and sat on the edge of her bed. Nigel thumped to the floor and brushed her legs.
She had been raised to be kind to others, to be thoughtful, considerate. Raised by her parents to be like that. But her parents weren’t that way. At least they weren’t back then. Maybe the past weighed on their minds? Was their punishing touring schedule a form of self-flagellation? Atonement? Everyone in town knew that Fran and Len had not had a good relationship. He’d gone after every dewy-eyed starlet who crossed the stage. Fran had become a hardened harridan, firing the ones her husband slept with and running roughshod over a lot of people’s hopes and dreams. Were her parents more like Fran and Len and she just couldn’t see it?
Rising, she went to her window and pulled the curtain back, staring at the streetlamp. The cat padded after her. She lifted him to feel his mighty purr. It comforted her.
Meanwhile, her parents had fled. They’d left Fredericksburg behind and lived a life of hotels and restaurants. They also left their children behind.
A lot of people had been hurt. Greer, most certainly, had killed Fran for her own father. Had probably tried to kill all four of them. Tally had believed, for a short time, that her own father had killed Fran. The thought haunted her as she gazed out her window, into the dark, nuzzled by a warm, furry, rumbling Nigel.
Chapter 28
In the morning, Tally felt like she wanted to throw up. The thought of working with Greer frightened her and made her feel queasy. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t work with her. Crossing her fingers and hoping Greer wouldn’t think it suspicious, she decided to call her and tell her not to come in. Sunday would be busy, one of the busiest days of the week, but she would have Lily there to help.
“Hi Greer. This is Tally.”
“I know,” Greer said, maybe snapping a bit.
“You know, I don’t think I need you to come in today.”
“Why not?” Greer was definitely ticked off. “You know I need the money.”
“It is short notice, isn’t it? I’ll pay you, okay?”
“What’s going on? What are you doing?”
“Greer, I—I think I’ll close early anyway. Something has come up. I need to concentrate on preparations for Monday.”
“All the more reason I should be there.”
“Well, no. It just won’t work.”
“Huh. How about Wednesday? Do you want me to work then?”
“Yes, I probably do.” She would have to think of something else if Jackson didn’t make a move by then. “Thanks very much for understanding.”
“Uh, no, I don’t understand at all.”
“Thanks, Greer. I’ll talk to you later.”
Tally was breathing fast, sweating, and shaky. That had not gone well. Not well at all.
Nigel gave her a look that seemed sympathetic. She would assume it was. She needed sympathy right now, even if it was from a cat.
She was still shaky when she got to work. In fact, she had trouble getting her key into the keyhole of the back door. Lily pulled up in her small Honda as Tally finally got the door open and greeted her with a cheery, “Good morning, Tally. Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
Tally looked up at the sky. It was a nice day. She hadn’t been able to notice through her distress. Her mental state clouded the sky, colored the day gray, and dimmed the bright, late August sun.
Lily gave Tally a smile and swept past her to begin mixing, cooking, and baking treats for the day. Had Tally’s life ever been that uncomplicated?
* * * *
Yolanda got a call from Kevin as soon as she arrived at work Sunday morning. After a few seconds of hesitation, she answered it.
“You’re still speaking to me?” he asked.
The sound of his voice made her feel so good all over. What should she do? Go back with him? Take some time off? She worried that the kisses in the vineyard shed had been wrong. They had felt right, though.
“I need to talk to you about Monday,” he said. “Are you about ready? Is there anything you need?”
“I’m pretty sure I am, unless I’ve forgotten something. I had the baskets done a week ago.”
“When do you think I should start helping you bring over Tally’s treats? And your baskets?”
Okay. He wasn’t going to talk about it. She wouldn’t, either. But she had to talk to someone. Tally. Soon.
“Kevin… I think we’re both in good shape.” He could take that any way he wanted to. In that second, the mists in her mind parted and she decided she wanted to stay with him. “We can bring our things over. I know—I’ll close early today if you need help.”
“How early?”
“Noon, okay? We’ll have all afternoon and tomorrow morning. Everything will be set up beautifully for the wine tasting. In fact, I’ll call Tally and see if she can bring her things over this afternoon, too.”
“Perfect. Love you, Yo. Gotta go. Customers.”
Love you. Maybe they would make it.
Yolanda called Tally’s number, but didn’t get her. She should have texted, she knew, but decided to leave a voice mail. Tally usually listened to those fairly often.
“I need to talk to you about…something. I don’t want to leave a message or a text. Call me back when you have a few minutes.”
Tally called back within seconds.
“I’m going to shut down at noon today,” Yolanda said, “to help Kevin set up. Do y’all want to join us? Or do you need to stay open? I can get your things this afternoon and bring them over. It’s all of a few feet, after all. Not a huge distance.”
“That would be fine.”
Tally sounded distracted. “Are y’all okay?” Yolanda asked.
“Yes, everything’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, girlfriend. Something’s bothering you.”
“You’re right. I can’t keep secrets from you. One of my employees is… well, I think she might… Look, I can’t talk about it right now, though. Later, okay?”
“Sure. Give me a call when you can.”
Yolanda set her pink phone down on her sales counter and paused, wondering what was bothering Tally. Probably something to do with her father being accused of murder. What a mess that was!
She sent a text to Tally saying she would call her at noon.
“Yolanda?” Greer, Tally’s employee, was standing in front of her. She hadn’t heard her come in.
“Can I help you, Greer? Do you need a basket?”
“Yeah, maybe. But I’m really hot. Could I get a glass of cold water?”
Yolanda went to her sink in the back and filled a paper cup. “It’s not all that cold,” she said, coming back to the front and handing the cup to her. “But it should help if you’re overheated. Have you been walking a lot outside?”
Greer drank half of the water. “I’ll be okay. Thanks a lot.” She set the cup on the counter and left.
Chapter 29
Tally should have known she couldn’t fool Yolanda. Lily noticed her distress, too, Tally realized. She couldn’t get Greer off her mind. The suspicion—no, she knew it was the fact—that Greer was a murderer was cutting a deep groove in her brain and everything else was falling into that abyss. She ruined a batch of fudge and turned it into a gooey mess, made the wrong change for customers three times in a row, and felt like sh
e wanted to sit on the floor and cry.
“Tally, do you want to take a break?” Lily asked after Tally handed a customer Twinkies when they had asked for Mary Janes.
“Maybe I should.”
“Are you getting sick?”
Tally seized on that for an explanation. She didn’t want to discuss her suspicions, her knowledge, of Greer with Lily. If she was right, that would endanger Lily. “I might be. I don’t feel very well.”
“Do you want to go home? I can call Greer to come in. She’s supposed to be here today anyway.”
Tally did not want to have Greer in, if she could avoid that. “No! I mean, no, that won’t be necessary. Molly’s here. I’m sure I’m not contagious. It’s something I ate. I’ll take a break in the kitchen for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead and take a short rest, at least. Take your time. You have to be ready for tomorrow. Molly and I will handle things out here. I can holler if I get overrun.”
Tally was so grateful for Lily. She must think of a way to show her deep appreciation for her as a dependable employee. And as a non-murderer.
* * * *
Yolanda waited on a young couple who wanted to celebrate their first anniversary with a basket. He had picked out some items for his new bride and she had bought some things for her young groom. They were so loving and sweet, a beautiful couple. Yolanda wanted to do an extra-special job for them. They didn’t need the basket for two weeks, so she had plenty of time to do a suitable, maybe spectacular arrangement for them.
After they left, she sat down to sketch out some design ideas. She glanced around for her phone to look up what the first-anniversary theme was. The traditional one was paper, she remembered, but there was also a more modern one. Her phone wasn’t on the counter where she usually laid it, so she started roaming the shop, looking for it. It was bright pink. She should be able to find it.