“Tiffany didn’t leave me in the lurch,” Willow said in a sharper voice than she intended. “She arranged for someone to cover her shifts, so I don’t need any further help.”
Jasmin shrugged again and withdrew her foot from the doorway. “Oh, well. Guess I was too late off the mark.” She gave a large grin. “Keep me in mind for next time, though. As I said, I’ve got some great feedback from other jobs I’ve worked.”
Willow smiled and nodded as she closed the door, successfully this time. As soon as she saw Jasmin walking away from the house, she huffed out a large breath. The cheek of the woman, moving in with Tiffany’s husband only a day or two after she’d gone away on a break. Back in her day, there’d been a name for a woman like that, and it wasn’t one Willow could repeat in polite company!
“What’s the matter?” Harmony spotted something wrong as soon as Willow walked back into the tea rooms. “Was it the sheriff again?”
“No. It was a girl named Jasmin who’s apparently trying to replace Tiffany, at home and at work.”
Wendy looked over with a narrowed glance. “Jasmin Coleman?”
“That’s the one. Why? Do you know her?”
Wendy gave a small snort, then went back to wiping down the table. “I know of her. She used to date Tiffany’s husband before they got married and doesn’t seem to have gotten used to the fact. When Tiff came back from the hospital after having their first little one, she found Jasmin in the kitchen of their house, just helping out.” Wendy used air-quotes around the phrase. “I don’t know why Clay let her in the place.”
“It appears he’s letting her stay over again, now that Tiffany’s away.”
Wendy pursed her lips and shook her head, the disapproval adding twenty years to her face. “I hope you told her where to go.”
“I trust you didn’t,” Harmony said. “She doesn’t sound like someone you want to get on your bad side.”
“I just said Tiffany had already arranged cover since she had.” Willow shrugged and got back to work. “The request shocked me so much, I’m rather pleased I made any sense at all.”
Chapter Three
The tea rooms proved Willow wrong in her forecast, and customers rushed the three women off their feet from midday through to closing. Although she was happy to have the income, Willow’s feet regretted the influx as she saw Wendy and Harmony off home.
A minute after they exited, she collapsed onto the sofa and rested her legs on top of a footstool, clicking her fingers to encourage Mavis to jump up beside her rather than moving to lift the growing-ever-larger kitten up.
“How do you feel about takeout? Because I, for one, don’t care for the thought of cooking up a meal from scratch.”
Mavis seemed unperturbed at either option, settling in beside Willow and proceeding to lick her paws clean.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Willow said, reaching her hand out for the phone. Since opening the tea rooms, she’d programmed the numbers for several local restaurants into the memory, often lacking the energy to prepare her own meal after a long day.
“Ten minutes,” Willow announced to Mavis once she’d called the order through. “And I’ll give you a dollar if you answer the door when they come.”
Unfortunately, the kitten was a great deal lazier than Willow, and she had to answer when the food arrived.
Just as she was about to tuck in, there was another knock. On top of the dismay from her stomach, Willow also felt on edge from the early morning visitor, Jasmin. Setting her dinner aside, she walked to the front door at an angle so she could peer through the net curtains without being seen. Relief flooded through her body when she recognized the friend standing on the other side. “Reg!”
“Well, that’s a greeting and a half,” her friend said, giving her a quick pat on the shoulder as he walked inside. “Oh, I see you’ve just started eating. I can call back later if you prefer.”
“Don’t be silly. Grab yourself a plate from the kitchen and help me get through this lot.” Willow sat down and heaped some chicken Chow Mein onto her own plate as she made the offer. “I’ve a feeling my eyes may have been a bit bigger than my stomach when I called this through.”
“Only too happy to help.”
Reg sat down opposite, and for a few minutes, there was silence in the room, apart from the sounds of them munching. With one slurp, Willow sucked up the last noodle she could fit inside and patted her stomach with satisfaction.
“It’s times like this, I wish Mavis was a dog, so I could feed her leftovers,” Willow said, petting her kitten on the side of her neck. “Instead, I suppose I’d better fetch you your evening meal, too.”
Reg cleared up the table from their meal while Willow prepared Mavis’s dinner bowl. He straightened up after scraping the remnants into the bin for later composting and snapped his fingers. “Sorry, I almost forgot why I came over here in the first place. That waitress of yours, Tiffany? I wondered if there’d been any update on her disappearance.”
“Well, she hasn’t really disappeared,” Willow said, sighing as she took her place back on the sofa. “Just flagged work for a couple of days, that’s all. She’s been contacting me every morning by text and Harmony seems to know where she’s hiding out, though she won’t tell me.”
“Are you sure?” Reg frowned at Willow from his chair, his eyebrows so bushy and unkempt they made him look quite cross. “It’s just there’s been a different story going around town, is all.”
“Isn’t there always?” Willow stifled a yawn against the back of her hand. “And this morning I had a visit from a most unwelcome guest. A woman who’s apparently installed herself in Tiffany’s place before the spot even got cold.”
“You’re talking about Jasmin?” Reg half-asked, half-stated. He shook his head. “Yeah, that’s been making the rounds, too. If something bad has happened to Tiffany, after all, it’s not looking good for her husband.”
“But as I said, I doubt anything bad has happened.”
Reg nodded and sat back, his hands fidgeting with the rolled-up fabric seam on the arms of the chair. His legs continued to jiggle as well, so Willow wasn’t surprised when he leaned forward again. “I don’t suppose you’d show me those text messages, would you? Only I’m anxious that something else might be going on.”
Willow stretched out her hand to snag the phone and passed it over. Reg had an even worse time than she did in the mornings, holding the screen at different arm lengths and tilting his head until finally, he got it at an angle where if he squinted, he could read the display.
“Well, I suppose that’s all okay, then,” he said, sounding almost disappointed as he handed the mobile back to her. “And that’s definitely her phone number, is it? Only with text messages, it’s so hard to tell.”
“No,” Willow said, some of Reg’s fidgets passing over to her so she tapped her fingers on the top of her knee. “I showed it to Wendy yesterday when she asked, and she told me it wasn’t Tiffany’s usual number. We figured she must have got a new phone.”
“Hm.” Reg leaned his chin on steepled fingertips. “Did Tiffany mention before she disappeared that she’d lost her phone?”
“No.” Willow picked up her mobile and looked at the display, reading the messages over again even though she knew them off by heart. “She said nothing like that. Still, the last time I saw her was Friday, so it could have gone missing over the weekend.”
Then Willow remembered herself and gave a laugh. “I’m being silly. Harmony as good as told me Tiffany was safe and sound. I think she just went out of town for a break.”
“Why would Harmony know where she was?” Reg asked.
Although it was the same question Willow had put to Charley the night before, she didn’t feel right answering it. The information was only second hand, and even Charley didn’t know it was true.
“I’ll give Tiffany a call back on this number, and that should set both of our minds at rest.” Willow pressed the phone icon and waited for the call to
connect. It clicked rather than ringing, then disconnected. She frowned at the screen and tried again while looking at the display, this time. The same sequence happened, and Willow felt her unease grow. “I guess she doesn’t have it turned on.”
The excuse sounded flimsy to her own ears, and Reg’s expression clearly showed his disbelief. “Tiffany has kids, doesn’t she?”
Willow nodded. “Two. They’re staying with her mom at the moment.”
“Ever heard of a mother turning her phone off when her children were staying the night away from home?”
Willow dialed Harmony’s number and listened to it go to voicemail with an increasing sense of panic. Why hadn’t she inquired further when she had the chance? Sheriff Wender had been standing right on her doorstep, and it must have looked like she didn’t even care!
“Harmony isn’t answering either,” Willow said, on the edge of tears. Even though she’d grown up in the days of landlines, when people could be out of contact for days, it just didn’t happen now.
Reg was right, no mother would turn her cell phone off when her children were staying somewhere away from her. It didn’t matter how much Tiffany trusted her mom to babysit, you left the phone turned on because there could be an emergency at any moment.
“Wait.” Willow held out her hand as Reg went to stand. “Let’s think a minute. I know Harmony told the sheriff something about Tiffany because I left them deep in conversation when he stopped by yesterday. I’m sure this is all just a storm in a teacup.”
“Well, I’m not.” Reg paced over to the window and jerked back the net curtain to look outside. “I was concerned enough to come over here because I heard about what triggered the investigation. It wasn’t just that your waitress went missing, it’s that the last place anyone saw her was dripping with blood.”
Chapter Four
“What on earth do you mean? Where was there blood?” Willow clutched her hands up to her chest, feeling quite distraught. In a low voice, not allowing Reg the time to answer her first questions, she continued, “Are you saying somebody murdered Tiffany?”
“I don’t know, but that’s what worried me. Elsa, the landlady down at the Clavin Hotel in Richwell County, said Tiffany was there as part of a hen’s night on Saturday. She had her husband throw the whole group out after midnight when they got too rowdy, but Tiffany was missing by that stage, and the room was soaked in blood.”
“But what happened?” Willow’s voice turned into a squeak. “Don’t they keep an eye on things?”
“It was in a private room, and the police sealed it off with tape. Elsa’s all upset about the whole thing. She started a conversation with her husband saying perhaps it’s about time they got out of the business altogether.”
Willow could imagine that. If she found blood in her tea rooms and had a customer missing, she wouldn’t think twice before shutting the whole business down. The very idea made her shiver.
“I feel like we should try to get hold of Harmony and maybe question her a bit more,” Willow said, wringing her hands together. Mavis jumped up on the sofa arm next to her and meowed loudly, picking up on her distress.
“Let’s go, then.” Reg was at the door before Willow even had the time to check she had dressed appropriately for outdoors. “If you think it will help.”
“I hope it will.” Willow paused for a second, pressing her fingertips against her temples as though she had a severe headache. So many thoughts were tossing and tumbling about in her brain, it wouldn’t surprise her if that came next.
“What is it?” Reg reached out to touch her lightly on the elbow. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Willow shook herself and straightened her shoulders. “But I won’t get any better, sitting about doing nothing. Lead the way.”
The two of them walked out the door, not quite at a trot but certainly not dawdling. Even on foot, it only took them fifteen minutes to reach Harmony’s door. Willow knocked upon it firmly, then stepped back, her eyes scanning the windows for signs of movement.
After a few minutes with no answer, it became clear their first port of call was a bust. “Perhaps the sheriff could tell you something more?” Reg suggested, and in lieu of any other idea, Willow agreed it was worth a shot.
But Sheriff Wender wasn’t in the mood to distribute any information. “I don’t know why you’re turning up now, but when I talked to you yesterday, you didn’t seem very concerned.”
“That was before I found out that the last place Tiffany visited was swimming in her blood!”
Even in her distress, Willow caught the curl of the sheriff’s lip at her wail. “It’s not funny,” she insisted, stamping her foot.
“It wouldn’t be if it were true,” Sheriff Wender replied. “Now, I won’t tell you anything about Tiffany’s ongoing case, but I will say you don’t need to worry about her being hacked into pieces in Richwell County. There were bloodstains in the room where the hen’s night partied—that much is true—but we’re talking about a teaspoon max, and it could’ve gotten there at any time.”
With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Mary-Jo wasn’t listening in, Sheriff Wender leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I think cleaning might be low on the Calvin Hotel’s list of priorities, if you know what I mean. If you’re worried on that account, then I can set your mind at rest.”
“It wasn’t her phone number,” Willow remembered to tell the sheriff. “When I spoke to you yesterday about Tiffany texting me, I thought it was, but Wendy said it was different from the usual number.”
Sheriff Wender gave a nod of thanks. “I’ll add that to the file, but again, I wouldn’t be too worried about that small detail. In fact, I can’t tell you anything more, but the attitude you had yesterday made a lot more sense.”
“Honestly,” Willow said, raising her hands into the air with frustration. “How am I meant to remember what kind of attitude I had yesterday?”
The sheriff gave her a smile while firmly guiding her and Reg out. “I meant, you weren’t worried then, and there’s no need to be any more worried now.”
Willow turned to try asking once again, but Sheriff Wender had already closed the door to the station shut. Instead, she turned to Reg. “I don’t suppose you’d like to have a drink. After everything I’ve heard tonight, I’d appreciate something to settle my nerves.”
In the back of her mind, Willow hoped Charley would be ensconced in The Old Chestnut pub, but when they entered, he was missing from his usual seat. Still, the need to calm down was still present, so she ordered a gin and tonic for herself while Reg got half a pint of bitter.
“It’s pretty crowded for a weeknight, isn’t it?” Reg asked as they sat at a corner table. “When I was younger, these places would be empty until Friday, then they’d pack the place out.”
Halfway through her tipple, Willow felt better. She considered having another drink, though her usual limit was none, and her idea of extravagance was one.
As she pondered the idea with tipsy judgment, a man’s voice traveled the length of the bar. Given how packed the room was, the ambient noise level was already high. Willow looked up, thinking somebody must either be very drunk or very upset to be so loud.
On first glance, it appeared the man responsible might be both.
Clay Woodcock, Tiffany’s husband, stood at the bar, his hand supporting him against the counter. In front of him, back to her, was another broad-shouldered man. Given his position, Willow couldn’t be sure of his identity, but he seemed plenty upset with Clay. One large forefinger poked into Clay’s chest, a deep rumble accompanying the gesture, the words indecipherable to Willow’s ears.
Clay fell back a step, almost stumbling his way into a drunken fall. He recovered, clutching hold of the edge of the bar as though it were a lifeline.
“You don’t know nothing about it!” Clay yelled, spittle flying out to spray in the other man’s face. “Why don’t you pay attention to what’s going on in your own home, rather than both
ering me all the time about your daughter. If you want to point fingers, perhaps start with yourself?”
Willow ducked as the man with his back to her advanced. She guessed from Clay’s words it must be Trace Cowden, Tiffany’s father. When he turned his head slightly to one side, she confirmed the suspicion.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” she asked Reg, picking up her bag and standing before her friend had the chance to respond. “I think the fresh night air might be a healthier option than this place.”
Reg agreed, and quickly escorted Willow out the door, into the relative quiet of the night. A breeze, just stiff enough to blow hair across Willow’s face, still carried the warmth of the late summer’s day. She tucked her arm through Reg’s as they hurried away from The Old Chestnut.
“That looked like it was about to get ugly.” Willow shook her head. “If either one of those men were really concerned with Tiffany’s wellbeing, I doubt they’d be spending their time in the pub.”
“Sometimes that’s the only refuge men have to go and talk things over,” Reg pointed out.
Willow loved him for the different perspective and how he bent over backward, trying to be fair.
“Although, it appeared that both of them were more interested in starting a fight.”
Just as the words left Reg’s mouth, the door to the bar flew open, and Clay landed on his butt on the ground outside. Trace was standing over him, silhouetted in the doorway. His giant hands were curled into tight fists, and he shook one at the man lying supine.
“How about you head on home for the night?” Trace growled. He took another step out of the bar, the door swinging closed behind him. Clay cowered away from him, shuffling backward to gain distance.
“I don’t take orders from you,” Clay insisted when he was a yard away. He struggled to a standing position, swaying back and forth on his feet. “I didn’t have nothing to do with Tiffany going. If your wife weren’t always after her for those kids, she would still be sitting peacefully at home.”
Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 35