“My wife wants to spend a few hours a week with her grandbabies, that doesn’t mean she wants to raise them full-time.”
Trace’s voice was stuffed so full of emotion it cracked. Willow turned away and walked along again, pulling Reg with her. It seemed to her in another moment, the man would be crying.
She heard Clay staggering away from the bar, apparently giving up rather than earning himself another blow from his father-in-law. Willow guessed he must have shot a rude gesture or something at Trace because a second later, the elder man roared. “If I see you again tonight, you’re dead, do you hear me? And if you’ve hurt my Tiff in any way, I’ll break every bone in your scrawny wee body!”
Chapter Five
After the confrontation, Willow’s heart galloped in her chest. She parted ways with Reg, the relaxation she’d received from her earlier drink gone for good. When she slipped in through the door, Mavis circling around her legs like she’d been gone for a year, Willow cast a sidelong glance at her liquor cabinet.
It had remained pretty much untouched since her husband Molly’s death, and now she sighed, reaching for a container of dried chrysanthemum flowers instead. With a teaspoon of honey, they’d do a better job of calming her nerves than a shot of whiskey or another glug of gin. Given how little she drank, Willow didn’t fancy waking up with a hangover—not at her age!
The flowers were so pretty Willow placed them straight into the cup rather than steeping them in a pot as she usually did. The duller shades of the dried flower heads burst into life as they absorbed the water, turning a bright yellow that cheered Willow’s spirits before she even took a sip.
After an evening so full of a roller-coaster of emotion, Willow felt quite tired. As the tea worked on her nerves, her blinks stretched out longer and longer. When the jerk of her head falling to her chest woke her, she rinsed out the cup in the sink and headed upstairs to bed. Sleep, which had seemed impossible just an hour before, had her tightly in its grip.
* * *
The next morning, Willow dozed, waiting for the familiar beep of the text message from Tiffany before she got out of bed. After what seemed long enough, she looked at the clock and gasped in shock as she realized how late it was.
Willow leaped up and quickly showered and got dressed, dragging a hairbrush through her damp hair. She should have been up and about a full half-hour earlier. What a day for Tiffany not to call in sick!
Mavis followed her anxiously through to the kitchen, mewing about the lateness of her breakfast being served. Only a minute after sorting her kitten’s food out, a knock came at the front door, and Willow hurried over to answer it, still feeling out of sorts.
Harmony stood on the doorstep, her face pale.
“I didn’t think I’d see you today,” Willow said, standing back so her friend could enter. “Tiffany hasn’t left any word, so I assume she’s coming into work as per usual.”
But Harmony shook her head, still standing in place on the front step. “I don’t think she will be,” she finally muttered. “They found Clay Woodcock this morning, run over by a car.”
“Oh, no.” Willow pressed her hand up against her chest. “That’s awful. Is he very badly hurt?”
Tears ran down Harmony’s cheeks. “It’s worse than that, he’s dead.”
* * *
“I can’t believe this,” Willow said for the umpteenth time. “Reg and I just saw the man yesterday evening. How could he possibly be dead?”
“I wonder if he strayed out into traffic.” Harmony had been shaking so severely Willow insisted she come indoors and sit down before she dropped. Now she sat on the edge of the cushion, her trembling sending shivers across the entire couch.
“He’d certainly drunk enough for that to be a possibility.” Willow blushed as she remembered she was passing judgment on a dead man. “Either that or perhaps he fell down on the road, and the driver just didn’t see him.”
“Surely, in either case, the driver would know they’d hit somebody.” Harmony wrung her hands together in her lap. “Why wouldn’t they stop to check the man was okay?”
“Perhaps they did and got scared when they found him not breathing.” Willow had seen that often enough on TV shows to believe it could happen in real life. “Or maybe they thought they hit a deer or other animal.”
“I suppose that could be the case.” Harmony ran her fingers through her hair, tears flowing down her cheeks again. “I feel responsible in some silly way because I didn’t tell Clay where his wife was staying. If only I had, perhaps he wouldn’t have been out getting drunk, to begin with.”
“There is no way this is your fault, do you understand me?” Willow rapped her knuckles on the tabletop for emphasis. “We have no way of predicting what might or might not have happened if a different sequence of events had played out. All we know at this stage is that someone’s car must be pretty banged up, and they’re the only one who could claim responsibility for Clay’s death. Not you and not Tiffany.”
She sat back, trying to decide what to do. After hearing the news, Willow had brought in the sign for the tea room and replaced it with one saying “Closed.” Even though she hated to disappoint customers, neither she nor Harmony was in any fit condition to wait on tables today. Wendy had arrived in such a state that Willow sent her straight home again, and none of them had heard a squeak from Tiffany at all.
“I should go to the motel she was staying at,” Harmony said, getting to her feet. “I can’t tell you where it is, I hope you understand.”
“You’re not calm enough to drive anywhere,” Willow insisted, pulling on her friend’s arm until she sat back down on the sofa. “We can ring the sheriff and tell him where Tiffany’s staying. Is that allowed?”
Harmony looked bewildered. She’d filled Willow in on the work she did, the scenario fitting closely to what Charley had surmised. “We don’t usually, in case they let slip to the family members.”
“Well, the only family member Tiffany should be concerned about is the one lying in the morgue. If you tell the network what you’ve done, then they can arrange a different location in the future, if they’re worried. For now, I think it’s more important that the police find Tiffany to tell her what’s happened to her husband.”
“You’re right.” Harmony nodded and took the proffered phone from Willow’s hand. “I’ll call the sheriff, and he can send a deputy down to inform Tiffany what’s happened and make sure she makes it back safely.”
Willow walked through to the kitchen on the excuse of fetching them a hot drink. She didn’t want Harmony to feel she was listening in to what should be a private conversation.
Even though Charley’s assumptions had forewarned her, Willow still felt a bit miffed that Harmony hadn’t trusted her enough to confide the work she did.
The feeling was probably just her being emotional—after all, the fewer people who knew about where battered women were sheltering, the better—but the deception had dented Willow’s pride. Before this, she would have claimed that Harmony told her about everything that mattered. Certainly, the opposite was true. For the most part.
Willow blushed as she thought back to earlier in the year when she’d hidden a blossoming relationship with a real estate agent from both of her best friends. Even if they seemed to have fathomed the details on their own, Willow didn’t know how long she would have left it before coming clean. Perhaps the secrets she kept to herself left her without a leg to stand on.
All of that was by the by, anyway. At the moment, the only thing that mattered was getting Tiffany home safely and making sure they supported her through the terrible events of her husband’s death.
As Willow walked back through to the living room with a tray of tea and fresh-cut fruit, Harmony put down the phone. “Sheriff Wender’s sending somebody down to the motel now to fetch her.” She shook her head. “I hope they break the news to her gently.”
“They have training in these sorts of cases.” Willow handed her friend a cup be
fore pouring one for herself. “I’m sure Jacob wouldn’t send anyone along he didn’t have confidence in.”
Harmony nodded, then the tears slipped down her cheeks again. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying so much. It’s not as though I had any attachment to the man.”
“It’s the shock,” Willow said. Unfortunately, she spoke with a voice full of experience. “Once that passes, you’ll get back onto an even keel.”
“I hope so. Otherwise, this entire day will end up very soggy.”
Not wanting to stray too far from the phone, Willow diverted her attention by cooking up a large brunch for her and Harmony. Neither of them much wanted to eat, but the routine of chopping, slicing, and frying helped to keep her mind occupied, so it didn’t fall too deep into the doldrums.
After clearing away the mostly uneaten meal, Willow busied herself with the dishes. Once she’d finished those, she looked out into her garden with a gaze full of longing. Harmony didn’t get on too well with the outdoors, but she hoped to convince her a good read on a rug in the sunshine, while Willow weeded nearby, was just what the doctor ordered.
Before she could get as far as asking, though, a knock had Willow scrambling to answer it. She pulled open the door, and Sheriff Wender stood there, a stern expression on his face. “Is Harmony here?”
Willow stood aside so he could walk through to the living room and see for himself. “What’s happening with Tiffany? Did she take the news okay?”
The sheriff gave her an odd look and Willow felt her heartbeat speed up as she waited to hear what he had to say. “Are you sure Tiffany Woodcock was staying at the Drive-On-Up Motel?”
Harmony nodded, then cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m sure. I drove her there myself the other night.”
“Well, she’s not there now.” Sheriff Wender twisted his hat between his hands, gazing from Harmony to Willow and back again. “My deputy reported back, and there’s no sign of her, nor has the room booked under the pseudonym you gave us been slept in.”
“But…” Harmony trailed off, staring at Willow for help.
“Where do you think she might be?” Willow asked the sheriff, afraid of what he might answer.
“I think Tiffany Woodcock is now our number one suspect in the death of her husband, Clay Woodcock. If either of you knows where she’s hiding out, it’s in your best interests to tell me right now.”
Chapter Six
Harmony reached out for the arm of the sofa to break her fall but didn’t quite make it. She thumped heavily down onto the cushions, her face ghostly white. “I’m sure that can’t be right. Tiffany wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
“Well, if she’s innocent of this crime and you’re in touch with her, it might pay to let her know she’s making it look worse for herself.” Sheriff Wender popped his hat back on his head, the brim still out of shape from his twisting. He flicked it up with a snap of his fingers and turned to leave.
“Wait a moment.” Willow moved over to the Sheriff’s side. “I saw Clay arguing with a man, just yesterday. He might have done it.”
Harmony glanced up, her face more hopeful, and Willow swallowed hard as she remembered who that man was.
“Well?” Sheriff Wender prompted when Willow didn’t explain any further.
“It was in The Old Chestnut,” she said, stalling while she tried to think if what she was about to say would make it better or worse for Tiffany. But it was too late now. Willow had already said enough to rouse the sheriff’s interest. No backtracking would put a stop to that.
“Trace Cowden got in a fight with him. A physical one.” Willow shuffled her feet and ran a hand through her hair, wishing she’d just stayed in bed for the day. “He said something along the lines of hurting or killing Clay if he saw him out and about again.”
Sheriff Wender nodded. “The man has been under a lot of pressure lately. He and Erika have been looking after the kids while Tiffany is AWOL.” He shot a weighted glance at Harmony, then looked away as he seemed to notice for the first time she was crying.
“It’s probably nothing,” Willow added. “Both men were drunk, and I’m sure it was just the beer talking.” She frowned. “Given the state of Clay at the time, I wouldn’t imagine he got very far under his own steam. Can I ask where the accident took place?”
Sheriff Wender took the hat from his head and worked its brim again. “Out on Holstein Road, near the highway. Clive Waller found the body this morning while out walking his dog.”
Willow raised her eyebrows at that, and was about to say something, then clamped her lips shut. She already felt like she’d said enough.
“Isn’t it more likely it’s an accident, then?” Harmony stopped snuffling long enough to ask. “From what Willow says, Clay might easily have fallen over or just lain down on the road to sleep.”
“He’d have to be pretty far gone to think lying down for a nap in the middle of the road was a good idea.” The sheriff looked tired of the conversation.
“Clay never was the brightest spark plug in the box.” Harmony smiled, then seemed to remember she was speaking ill of a dead man. Her eyes widened briefly, and Willow jumped in to add her support.
“That’s true. Besides, as I said, Clay was three sheets to the wind when Trace kicked him out of The Old Chestnut. The man couldn’t even walk in a straight line so I can believe he might have fallen down and just stayed there.”
“Well, we’ll know soon enough. My deputies are out looking at the vehicles of all the most likely suspects. We’ve recovered a few paint chips from the body, and that should help us find a match.”
Willow winced at the thought that the car had hit Clay hard enough for paint from a vehicle to embed in his body. “I’ll wish you good luck with that, then, and we’ll let you know if we hear anything from Tiffany. She didn’t text in this morning, so I’m not sure where she’ll be.”
“Didn’t she?” Harmony stood up and walked over to Willow’s side, frowning. “That’s not like her. She’s usually pretty conscientious.”
“Maybe she lost her phone.”
“Maybe Tiffany didn’t have time to send you a text message in between killing her husband and going on the run from the police,” Sheriff Wender said, earning himself a scowl.
“If you don’t need anything further from us, Sheriff, then I’ll show you out.” Willow pointedly moved over to the front door and held it open. She breathed a sigh of relief as she shut the door behind him. “Do you really not know where Tiffany might be hiding out?”
Harmony looked her full in the face, her gaze steady. “I promise, I don’t. Even if I’ve occasionally hidden things from you, I swear on my life I’m not hiding anything now.”
Rather than feeling relieved, the honesty in her friend’s statement left Willow feeling even more concerned. “I’m not sure what to be more worried about. That Tiffany is now genuinely missing or that she might’ve been involved with Clay’s death?”
“I’m sure I’d feel better if I knew where she was,” Harmony agreed.
Willow paced the length of the room, cupping her elbows and hugging her arms close to her body. “Which day did you help Tiffany leave?”
Harmony looked self-conscious again, then sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter who knows now. I picked her up from outside the Calvin Hotel where she was meant to be celebrating a hen’s night. We left the rest of the group still partying, and I drove Tiffany one county over to the Drive-On-Up Motel. She just wanted a few days away from her obligations to get her head straight. There’s been trouble at home.”
“Did Clay beat her?”
It made Willow feel a thousand times better when Harmony wrinkled her nose. “The man was a complete Neanderthal in many ways, but so far as I know, he never laid a hand on her. I think she struggled a lot more with his lack of support around the home and with the children. The fact she had to leave them with her mom rather than with their dad speaks volumes about that.”
“When he and Trace were yelling at each o
ther in the bar, he accused Erika of wanting to have the kids to herself.”
“Oh, no. I’m sure that’s not true.” Harmony sat back down with her hands laced together in her lap. “From what I gathered, she likes them visiting but only because she gets to hand them back at the end of the day.”
Willow laughed at that. “It does sound much more attractive.”
It raised an even worse specter though. If Erika only wanted to look after the children for short periods, then Tiffany being out of touch struck a more ominous chord.
“Come on,” Willow said, grabbing her bag and phone off the table. “Let’s get over to the Cowden’s place and ask them what they know about their daughter. I won’t rest easy until I know Tiffany’s safe.”
From the echoing expression of relief on Harmony’s face, it seemed her mind was on the same track. “Not to mention, we get to have a gander at Trace’s car to look for damage before the deputies get around to it. From what the sheriff said, the vehicle responsible must have a pretty good set of dents.”
* * *
Erika Cowden pulled the door open so quickly the hinges squealed in protest. Her face turned from expectant to puzzled when she saw Willow and Harmony standing on the front step. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” Willow stepped forward and held out a hand. “I’m Tiffany’s boss, and I’d love to know where she is right now.”
Erika gave her hand a limp shake in return before stepping back so the two of them could enter. “If I knew where Tiffany was, do you think my grandkids would still be tearing the place up?”
Willow nodded and issued a sigh. Tiffany’s two children, a girl, and a boy, were chasing each other over the living room furniture. At a guess, the floor was lava because neither one of them was letting their feet get close.
“I don’t suppose you have a number where we could reach her?” Willow asked, but Erika was already shaking her head.
“She left her phone here, the silly girl. She called from the motel landline twice since she waltzed off for her impromptu holiday, but I haven’t heard a peep out of her today.” The woman chewed on the side of her thumbnail. “I hope she’s all right. It’s awful not being able to get in contact. I don’t even know if Tiff’s heard that Clay is dead.”
Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 36