“So, on Saturday night, Harmony drove Tiffany to the motel room. Then, yesterday afternoon, Dot from the donut shop saw her being bundled into a car.”
“Dot?” Reg raised his eyebrows.
“An eyewitness who saw Tiffany leaving the accommodation,” Willow explained. “And we know from Betty at the front desk she hasn’t been back there.”
“We saw Trace and Clay fighting outside the pub last night,” Reg added once Willow wrote those first details down. “And it seemed at that stage neither man knew where Tiffany had got to.”
Harmony continued with the next fact, “And then Clive Waller found Clay’s dead body at dawn this morning.”
“Clive Waller discovered him?” The surprise in Reg’s voice caught Willow’s attention.
“Yes, that’s what the sheriff said. He was out walking his dog. Why?”
“His dog!” Reg shook his head and stared at the wall, deep in thought. “No, that can’t be possible. His dog had some kind of operation on his hind legs early this week. I helped him take Rusty home from the veterinarian’s surgery. There’s no way he’s up and walking about already.”
“Well, whatever reason he had to be out walking, he still found Clay dead.” Willow frowned across the table at Reg. “I don’t think it matters whether the dog was there or not.”
“Maybe. But if Clive’s lying about one thing he might lie about another,” Reg said with a nod. “And if you list Clay’s genuine enemies in Aniseed Valley, then Clive would come at the top of that list.”
Chapter Ten
“Why?” Willow sat up straight, her eyes piercing into Reg’s. “What did Clay ever do to him?”
So far as she could remember, Clive Waller was closer in age to Reg. It seemed odd the two men would even know each other, let alone be sworn enemies.
“They got into a fight at the boxing club.” Reg smiled as though reminiscing about something good. “A few months ago, back when they had their open day so everybody could check out the rings and have a practice bout to see if they’d like the sport.”
Willow nodded, and Harmony gave a small noise of assent. She remembered the open day. It hadn’t just been the boxing club that opened but the associated gym as well.
She’d popped her head into it just to take a peek at what the event was like, but opening a membership was never on the cards. Some of the equipment had been fun to try out, but just the bother of lacing the gloves up correctly made her feel inadequate to the task. The oversized sportswear left her partially disabled with no use of her fingers—a feeling she didn’t want to pay good money for.
“Did they get into a real fight, then, or was it just the loss of pride over a test bout?” Willow shifted on her seat, having lost respect for the men, no matter which answer it was.
“It started off as a bout, but they continued it later on, outside the club. Clive didn’t appreciate being shown up by such a youngster, and Clay was too big for his britches. Bare knuckle fighting just isn’t the same as sparring in a ring though. Poor Clive lost two teeth and ended up with an abscess in his gums. When he turned around and took Clay to court for the costs, the judge ruled he’d been equally culpable, so wasn’t owed a thing.”
“Well, obviously!” Willow gave a laugh that came out sounding harsher than she meant to. “Why would he ever think the loser in a fight should have his bills paid by the winner?”
“Because he felt aggrieved that Clay took it too far.” Reg sighed and shrugged. “It sounds obvious from the outside looking in, but for a time there Clive really believed the court would find in his favor. When it didn’t, he had to put off getting the work done to fix his mouth. Not only did he end up suffering a lot of extra pain, but he had to sell off a few paintings and antiques his mother left him. Even if it’s not fair, he put the full blame squarely onto Clay.”
“And you think he might have harbored enough resentment to kill him?” Willow asked.
Reg nodded. “That and more. I’m surprised the sheriff’s office didn’t arrest him on the spot.”
“We should pay him a visit,” Harmony said, getting to her feet. “Even if the sheriff knew there was animosity, he might not’ve known exactly how much. If you believe Clive could be a suspect, we should put it to him and see how he reacts.”
“Don’t be silly.” Willow pulled at Harmony’s hand until she sat back down. “First off, we’re looking after Tiff’s children, remember? We can’t go out and about, haranguing suspects until all hours. Secondly, didn’t you see Trace’s car? Clive might be upset with Clay, but it’s the Cowden’s car that has the great big dent.”
Harmony crossed her arms, but her expression softened at the reminder. “I suppose it’s too much to expect Clive would also have a car looking in a bit of a state, at the moment.”
“I don’t even know if he still has a vehicle,” Reg answered after a short pause. “The last I heard, he was thinking of selling it too, since he barely went out of town any longer.”
“Well, that sorts it, I guess.” Willow sat back in her chair and drained the last of her cup of tea. “It was nice to think someone else might be involved, just for the kids’ sake.”
“Not nice for Clive, I’ll wager.” Harmony tipped her a wink.
“And it still wouldn’t explain where Tiffany had got to,” Willow continued. She pulled the notepad toward her and looked at their small assembly of information. “Much as I feel sorry for Erika, what with her husband being locked up by the sheriff, at least she knows where he is. I can’t believe she isn’t out of her mind with worry over her daughter.”
“We don’t know she isn’t,” Harmony said, putting her hand over the top of Willow’s. “People react to stress in different ways, after all. Plus, she has so much else to consider at the moment, the missing piece of the puzzle could easily be the area of least concern.”
“It still doesn’t make sense.” Willow stared at their notes as though they’d suddenly form themselves together differently, and become understandable. “Trace can’t have been the one to pick Tiffany up, but who else would she be calling daddy?”
“Well, we only have Dot’s word for that part.” Harmony picked up one pen and clicked the button, on and off. “The donut shop is all the way across the street. Even if the couple was shouting, it doesn’t necessarily follow that Dot could’ve heard everything they said.”
“It still must’ve been someone she knew,” Willow pointed out. “Otherwise, there’s no way she would willingly have gotten into the car. No matter how sweet talking a stranger is, Tiffany is a sensible girl. She wouldn’t travel away with just anybody.”
“Unless they told her a lie.” Reg looked miserable at the suggestion. “I’m sure plenty of kidnap victims get told something believable that turns out not to be true.”
“But who would lie to her?” Harmony held her hands out, palms up. “And where would they take her? And for what?”
“Besides,” Willow added, “I can understand somebody from the sheriff’s office letting slip Tiffany’s location to her father or even Clay. To tell a complete stranger where she was staying though? That’s a different story. It must be somebody who knew her.”
“That means she’s either back in Aniseed Valley, or somebody here knows exactly where she is.” Reg slapped his palm down onto the table. “We should put together a list of everybody in town and see who stands to gain from her disappearance.”
Willow and Harmony groaned in unison.
“What?” Reg asked, his expression puzzled.
“We’d just be making up reasons because we can’t know who would gain what unless we know why she was taken.” Willow paused for a moment, her head aching with the possibilities. “Or even if she was taken. Perhaps all Dot really saw was Tiffany arguing with a taxi driver over the cost of the fare.”
The three stared at each other miserably until Rachel burst into the room. “It’s nothing to do with me but Jeremy has gotten himself stuck.” She put her thumb into her mouth and su
cked with intense concentration.
Willow led the group into the living room, at first unable to see where Jeremy was at all.
Then Reg pointed and shook his head in wonder. “How on earth did the young lad manage to get in there?”
Jeremy was crammed into Mavis’s cat run, his foot sticking out one end while his face pressed against the plastic siding of the tube much farther along. After a second spent staring in horror, Willow moved toward the boy and gave his foot a firm tug. Apart from a small yelp of protest, nothing happened.
Mavis stalked into the room, her tail swinging low in distrust of the new arrivals, then she sprang forward and jumped onto the portion of the tunnel where Jeremy’s face pressed against the side. She sat down and started licking herself, emanating scorn at the creature who couldn’t even use her house correctly, let along keep himself clean.
It took another half-hour of work to set Jeremy free. Luckily, Reg knew all the ins and outs of the structure that he’d built years before for a long-gone cat. He unscrewed and eased apart the sections until the boy wriggled out. Although Willow expected him to be traumatized, Jeremy just appeared pleased with himself. He preened under their attention before slumping back onto the sofa and upping the volume on the TV.
* * *
An hour later, Willow settled the two children into her spare bedroom upstairs. She’d lent Rachel a short nighty of hers that dragged on the ground when it was put on the girl. For Jeremy, she cut off an old pair of Molly’s pajama bottoms at the knees and gave him a T-shirt he could easily have wrapped around his torso twice.
She thought of using the set of keys Erika had given to her, but the drive across the city, then the hunt for clothing, finishing up with another ride back home, tired Willow out. At least fashioning the clothing into nightwear for the children was something they enjoyed, the big pair of scissors being especially popular, and the most supervised.
With the door ajar to listen for any distress calls, Willow sat downstairs with her two friends, none of them doing anything much at all. The circular thoughts around Tiffany disappearance and Clay’s death had worn them out too much for anything else.
When a knock came, Willow leaped to answer it and could have cried with relief when she saw Erika standing there. She offered a welcome hug and pulled her inside, responding to her first question that the children, “Hadn’t been any bother at all.”
“How is Trace doing?” Willow asked as she seated her new guest at the table and set about brewing a new pot of tea. “Did the sheriff let you see him?”
“Just for a few minutes.” Erika shook her head and seemed close to tears. “He’s not doing well at all and truth be told, neither am I.” She wrapped her arms around her torso and rocked back and forth. “I still can’t believe any of this is happening.”
“That’s to be expected,” Harmony said with gruff good humor, giving Erika a short hug. “You’ve barely had time to collect yourselves today with everything happening. Hopefully, after a good night’s sleep, you’re both better equipped to face the day.”
“I don’t think sleeping will help Trace get out of jail.” Erika rubbed at her eyes before accepting the cup of tea from Willow. “I really don’t know what I’ll do. We can’t afford a lawyer, and you always hear such awful stories about the court-appointed ones.” She laughed bitterly. “I guess we’ll find out about that for ourselves.”
“If Trace is innocent, then I’m sure everything will work out okay,” Harmony said. “If you’re still worried tomorrow, then pop into the library at some point, and I’ll phone around some firms to see if they’ve got staff free to work pro-bono.”
“Would you really do that?” Erika asked, appearing overwhelmed. When Harmony answered, “Of course,” Erika buried her nose into the cup of tea. Willow imagined it was to hide the burgeoning tears.
“Not that a lawyer will fix the car up or take away the matching paint samples,” Erika added ruefully a minute later. “Trace keeps insisting he hit nobody, but after getting a closer look at the Datsun, it seems less believable.”
No wonder the woman looked so bereft, Willow thought and gave her a pat on the shoulder. If she doubted her husband’s word, then it stood to reason everything would build to a head.
“Did they tell you they’d matched them?”
Erika nodded. “Yeah. They said it wasn’t just the paint color, there’s a metallic substance in the old paint jobs, and it had the same content as whatever was in that, too.”
Ouch. Willow winced and looked away.
“If it’s because he got drunk at that pub in town, I’ll be so wild,” Erika continued after a minute. “I always told him to call me if he got stuck there after having one too many. Either that or catch a taxi home.”
She put her empty cup down and hugged herself again. “I guess he thought with the kids at home I wouldn’t be able to just drop everything to collect him and money’s been tight lately. Taking a taxi might just be the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
Willow kept her mouth buttoned as she thought that the money being spent inside The Old Chestnut would be worth a lot more than the amount required to get home.
“It doesn’t seem like the bartender there.” Willow thought back to one time she’d met Charley at the bar, early on in their relationship. He’d been unable to drive home, and the bartender handed the keys to her. “He usually makes sure the men are sober or have a driver before he hands over the keys.”
Erika gave a short laugh that sounded more like a bark. “I don’t know if you heard Trace or not, earlier on, but he can’t find the keys. Probably couldn’t get them off the landlord so hot-wired the stupid car. Silly man.”
“Do people actually do that in real life?” Willow asked in surprise. She saw it often enough on the TV but assumed it was one of those plot twists that were overdone.
But Erika nodded. “One thing about working at the garage is Trace knows every way possible to get into a car and how to start it, key or not.” She gave a small laugh, this time containing some humor. “He said if we really needed to, we could always move to another town and become professional car thieves.”
“Have you heard from Tiffany?” Willow asked when the conversation wound down. “I’m terribly worried about her.”
“She’ll turn up,” Erika said, getting to her feet. “She has to. I couldn’t survive what’s going on with Trace if I found out something bad had happened to her, too.”
Chapter Eleven
Jeremy and Rachel were so fast asleep they didn’t stir when Willow and Reg lifted them up and carried them downstairs to the car. Even though the drive across town and back had seemed exhausting to Willow earlier in the evening, she’d happily offered to ferry Erika and the kids home.
When she got back, Reg had disappeared off to scan the night sky for any far-off visitors, and Harmony was nodding off on the couch. She gratefully accepted Willow’s offer to stay, and rather than go upstairs to the recently vacated spare room, just lay down and fell asleep on the sofa.
The alarm sounded far too soon for Willow’s liking, but she got up straight away, keen to check her phone to see if a message from Tiffany had miraculously eventuated. The screen was blank, though, and the call she tried again with faint hope went straight to voicemail.
Wendy called up to check the tea rooms were opening for the day and seemed relieved to find out they were. When she turned up, Wendy explained she’d driven herself crazy yesterday, imagining all the horrors that could be happening elsewhere.
Harmony scooted off home to get changed and prepared, then arrived back in time for a full day’s work. Unfortunately, even though Willow popped the sign out prominently, the unexpected closure the day before meant the numbers of customers had dwindled right down.
“You can head on home or off to the library,” Willow offered when the clock turned over to their busy time of eleven o’clock, with only one table filled. “I doubt it’s going to pick up this afternoon.”
&
nbsp; But Harmony shook her head. “I’d rather stay if you don’t mind. I can imagine driving myself just as crazy as Wendy did yesterday if I spend too much time alone.”
Even Mavis seemed out of sorts, only nibbling half her breakfast, then turning her nose up at a snack. She wandered outside, then back in, then back out until Willow thought her head would spin. Even when the kitten fell asleep in her bed in the sun, her legs were restless, trotting through endless dream scenarios.
All in all, Willow couldn’t think of a worse time for Jasmin Coleman to wander in through the doors, once again inquiring about waitress jobs in dire need of filling. By the time she appeared, Willow was so distraught with worry over Tiffany, she snapped. “Shouldn’t you be home crying over your dead boyfriend, you home wrecker,” she spat out, the words full of venom.
As soon as the words left her mouth, Willow was horrified. When Jasmin burst into tears a second later, she felt as though she should be strung up on the stake. “I’m so sorry,” Willow apologized as she helped the young woman to a seat. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s come over me.”
“I can’t believe Clay’s really dead,” Jasmin sobbed. “I keep expecting him to come in through the door at home, any second.”
“You’re not still living in his house, are you?” Harmony asked with a horrified expression.
To Willow’s surprise, Jasmin nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes me feel close to him,” she cried out, running through the first of many tissues.
Willow bit her lip against an angry retort, aware she’d already caused more than enough damage.
“I’m sure you’d feel better if you take yourself back home. To your home,” she clarified a second later. “If you keep hanging around the places where Clay hung out, you’re certain to prolong your grief.”
Actually, Willow was sure the opposite was true. Hiding away from the familiar spots where a loved one spent time was one thing her grief counselor had warned her about when Molly died. Still, from the little she’d heard about Jasmin and Clay, it seemed their relationship wouldn’t quite qualify for the same treatment.
Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 39