“Everything’s a job for women,” Reg mock-scolded him. “If Rachel wants to pilot spacecraft to the stars, then that’s her prerogative.”
“What’s a perog... perjative?”
“That means it’s up to her to decide,” Reg explained. “Pre-rog-a-tive. These days, society no longer dictates what you can do or be. Each individual can make that choice for themselves.”
Willow smiled at Harmony as they fell into steps behind the small group. Reg’s handling of the children both astounded Willow and made her feel a bit sad. If only medical treatments had been within Reg and his wife’s financial grasp, then she could easily imagine him having these conversations with his grandchildren.
No matter what choices people made for themselves, sometimes life had its own vision of what a person could and couldn’t do.
But enough of regret. Willow shook off the sad thoughts as they entered the hospital. She hooked her arm through Harmony’s and gave her a reassuring squeeze as they ventured deeper into the sterile hallways, mindful of what her friend had revealed earlier.
“Of course, you can see her,” the nurse at the ward desk told them all. “Your friend has been through a nasty ordeal, but she’s recovering in leaps and bounds.” The woman bent down until she was level with the children. “Now, do you want to go back in and see your mommy, or would you like to sit awhile in the family lounge and play on the X-box?”
“See Mommy,” they both replied in unison.
“It’s lucky we put her into a separate room,” the nurse commented as she led the troupe through the halls. “Otherwise, the ward would be overcrowded. She’s a popular young lady.”
“We can take it in shifts to visit if that makes it easier.” The offer was out of Willow’s mouth before she thought twice about it, but she was glad when the nurse shook her head.
“There’s no need to worry about that. Mrs. Woodcock has rallied, and she seems full of energy. But I’ll keep it in mind if I see her levels flag.”
Erika was already sitting at the head of the bed, holding onto her daughter’s hand, but she stood up and moved aside as the group entered. “I’ll just pop downstairs and grab a bite,” she said, nodding to Tiffany. “You catch up with your friends.”
“How are you doing?” Willow asked as the children ran ahead of her to jump up onto Tiffany’s bed. She cradled one under each arm, all three squeezing together to make the arrangement work.
“I’m good,” Tiffany croaked, then shook her head, laughing. “My voice is wrecked because I spent so much time yelling.”
“No need to talk, then.” Harmony shuffled forward to give Tiffany a kiss on the cheek. “How about we just sit here, and we can all stare awkwardly at each other?”
That had the whole room in stitches. “No,” Tiffany said as she recovered enough to speak. “You sit down, and I’ll pile thanks upon you. Mom told me if it hadn’t been for you two, I’ll still be trapped in that wretched trunk!”
“We got lucky,” Willow said, taking a seat next to the bed. “If someone hadn’t mentioned Clay’s car being missing, we never would have thought to look.”
“Who mentioned it? I must thank them too.”
Willow exchanged a shocked glance across the bed at Harmony, who shook her head.
“Oh, let me guess,” Tiffany said in the resulting silence. “It wouldn’t be someone who planted herself in my spot as soon as I left, would it?”
“It might be,” Willow admitted. “But look on the bright side, Jasmin made up for it by helping us to find you.”
“I suppose.” A cloud swept over Tiffany’s face, and she cuddled her children closer. “I keep thinking of everything I should be grateful for, then it gets mixed up with all the terrible things that have happened, and I forget again.”
“Oh, honey.” Willow leaned over and patted the back of Tiffany’s arm, careful to avoid the IV. “You don’t have to waste your time feeling thankful. There’s a lot to grieve for, I know.”
“The only person I’m grieving for is my dad,” Tiffany said, her lips twisting. “I’m sorry for the kids, but I can’t feel any sadness about Clay, not with what he did to me.”
Erika poked her head into the room just at that moment. “Jeremy, Rachel? How about we head downstairs and find something nice to eat? I saw some cupcakes in the bakery that appear to have your names written on them.”
Tiffany kissed the children and opened her mouth as though to remonstrate, then closed it again. When her mom led the kids out of the room, she admitted, “I was about to tell her no sugar, then I realized that’s just stupid given the circumstances. Who needs to avoid sugar and fried food when the world’s out to get you?”
“I’m sure it seems that way right now,” Reg said, coming closer, “but give everything a few days to settle down and avoiding sugar will become important again.” He gave Tiffany a strange smile. “I like your kids, but they seem hyper enough to an old man like me without filling their gas tanks with the white devil!”
Tiffany burst into laughter again, this time going until she coughed. “Sorry,” she said after taking a sip of water. “I hope my throat heals up soon. It’s a sad thing when you can’t even laugh to your heart’s content.”
“Your mom caught you up with everything else that’s happened?” Willow inquired. From what Tiffany had already said, she assumed that was the case but wanted to be sure. If there were mines planted in the ground, she’d prefer to avoid them.
“She told me Clay’s dead and all the evidence is pointing to Dad as being the one who killed him.” Tears welled in Tiffany’s eyes, and she played with the bed covers, rolling the top sheet into a long tube, then folding it over again. “I can’t think why he’d do that. I mean, if he knew Clay had me trapped in the trunk of his car, I’d understand, but otherwise...”
She trailed off, her mouth working as she tried to hold back the sobs.
Willow looked down at her lap, helpless as to what she could say to make things seem better.
“I’m taking your mom around the different law firms upstate, tomorrow,” Harmony said. “We’ll find the best lawyer we can and see if they’ll take on the case pro bono. If your father’s innocent, then we need to ensure he has the best representative on his side.”
Tiffany offered her a smile of gratitude. “Do you think my father’s innocent?”
The question seemed straightforward enough, but Willow could sense the pitfalls all around. She grabbed hold of Tiffany’s hand and squeezed it. “How about we leave those questions for the sheriff and the lawyer? No matter what’s gone on between your dad and your husband, it’s up to the justice system to sort it out.”
They continued chatting on less perilous subjects for a while longer until Erika returned with two well-fed children.
“We’d better be heading off and leave you to your family,” Willow said, pecking Tiffany on the cheek in goodbye. “And I’ll see you bright and early on Monday morning at work.”
When Tiffany’s face screwed up in concern, Willow gave a giggle. “Just kidding. You take as much time as you need to get well.”
They left the room on the sound of Tiffany’s croaky laughter.
Chapter Thirteen
“I feel so lazy today, not having any customers to serve,” Harmony said, taking a sip of mint tea and stretching her legs out in the sun.
Willow had woken up on the first morning of the weekend, seen the glorious day unfolding around her, and set out the sun loungers. “That’s the benefit of working,” she now agreed. “It helps to make me appreciate all the time I have off.”
“But you like the work, don’t you?” Harmony shot her friend a quick glance, under the hand she was using as a sunshade.
“I do. I love planning out the menus and the expression on customers faces when they take their first sip of herbal tea and realize it tastes even better than expected.”
“Good. It would be terrible to think you’d spent so long building the tea room only to find out it w
asn’t your cup of tea.”
Willow gave a giggle of appreciation at the pun. “Nope. No chance of that happening. I love waiting on people and making them happy. I should’ve taken up a job as a waitress rather than getting married. What a different life I would have led!”
“I bet if you’d done it your entire life, then retirement would be a very different scenario,” Harmony pointed out. “If you’d spent every working day on your feet for thirty years, I can’t imagine you’d want to do the same thing now.”
“I wouldn’t be retired if I’d worked. Unless I somehow finagled an inheritance in the same way.”
For a moment, Willow thought of the untimely death of her boyfriend. Although the windfall of the unexpected bequeath had led to her opening her dream shop, sometimes she wished everything had unfolded a different way.
Except that Charley’s nose would be put out of joint if she still had another boyfriend squirreled away!
Thinking of the devil, Charley appeared up the path around the side of her house, waving enthusiastically. “I just thought I’d drop by and see if you’re missing me,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “But I see you’re busy.”
“Pull up another lounger,” Willow said, laughing. “You can be just as busy.”
He did so, and they lay together in the sun swapping companionable stories until a rogue cloud brought their bathing to an untimely end.
“I know the forecast said showers in the afternoon but did it have to be accurate?” Harmony grumbled as they packed up everything to hurry inside. “I’m sure when the weather report says it’ll be sunny, they’re almost always wrong.”
“Not these days, they aren’t,” Willow said, stretching out her arms to show off her gardening tan. “And that’s with spending most of each day inside, serving tea.”
“How about I shout you to a pub lunch?” Charley offered. “The weather is the same every day inside The Old Chestnut.”
It was on the tip of Willow’s tongue to refuse when she abruptly changed her mind. “Yes, that sounds lovely, thank you.” She raised her eyebrows at Harmony who nodded in agreement.
“Perfect.” Charley clapped his hands together with a smile of glee. “I get to take the two prettiest ladies in town out for a bang-up meal and can have a pint while I’m doing it!”
“I’ll just grab a few things as a thank you for the barman,” Willow added. “If it hadn’t been for Ade’s help, we never would have found Tiffany.”
“That’s a great idea.” Harmony came over to help Willow pull together a basket of goodies from her shop and held her finger in the center of the ribbon while she tied it up with a large bow.
“How did he help?” Charley asked. Although Willow had talked to him the night before and explained her day, she’d been too tired to go into much detail.
“He’s the one who showed us to Clay’s car,” she explained. “If it hadn’t been for him knowing the habits of his regulars, we never would’ve found it. I hate to think what would’ve happened, considering we’re now into the weekend and even the people who’d usually park there, won’t be there for a few days.”
The thought was so full of terrors, Willow shuddered.
“Don’t worry about it, love,” Charley said, slinging an arm around her waist. “It all worked out for the best. You and Harmony are the town heroes. The sheriff’s office was so focused on Clay’s murder, they really dropped the ball.”
“That’s not fair,” Willow protested, though the words echoed some of her own thoughts on the matter. “They just have to make priorities.”
A few minutes later, in the pub, Ade accepted the basket with a broad smile of gratitude. “I don’t think I made the difference,” he said with a wink, “but I’m happy to accept the spoils.”
“Nonsense,” Willow told him. “Without you, we never would’ve found Tiffany.”
“Ah, well. I suppose it goes to show, it’s always good to stick my nose into my customer’s business and find out all their secrets.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Charley said, pulling Ade back to his business.
He drew a cold pint without asking, then looked at Willow and Harmony.
“We were promised lunch,” Harmony said, “so I’ll just have a lemonade along with that.”
“Of course,” Charley wiped the foam from his beer off his top lip. “I seem to remember some vague talk back at the house about food.”
Willow elbowed him in the ribs and laughed. She turned back to Ade. “I hope you don’t mind, but I had a question for you earlier that I completely forgot to ask until now.”
“Ask away,” he said with a sweep of his hand. “I’m feeling generous today.”
“I know you took Clay’s car keys off him because you still had them in your cash drawer,” Willow said, “and I remember you’ve done the same with Charley in the past.”
Ade nodded. “It’s part of the rules of being a responsible host. We want our customers to have a good time for a long time, so if they don’t look in a fit state to drive home, we take their keys off them.”
Willow smiled. “That’s what I thought, and that’s why the question has been niggling away at me. Clay walked home after he got kicked out on Wednesday night, but Trace was driving. Surely, he’d also had too much to have his keys back?”
“Yeah, he certainly had. I cut him off before eleven, but he stuck around, and when he tried to ask for them back, I told him it was a no go. He fell asleep for a while in a booth at the back.”
“So how did he end up with the keys?” Willow frowned. Although Erika had suggested her husband could wire the car easily enough, it seemed a stretch to imagine him doing that drunk, too. “Did he sober up enough after his sleep to drive?”
Her voice was full of doubt, but Ade just agreed with her. “Not a chance of that happening. That man needed a full night’s sleep before he’d be safe on the roads. No. I gave the keys to the girl he was with. She had one glass of wine earlier in the evening, but that was all. She was fine to drive him home.”
Willow’s mouth dropped open. Was this a case of like father, like son-in-law? Did Trace have a floozy waiting on the side?
“What girl?” she demanded as though Erika was speaking through her. “Who was she?”
“That girl who moved in with Clay after Tiffany took herself off for a few days. He introduced her as a friend of the family. Jasmin something.” Ade thought for a minute, then snapped his fingers. “Jasmin Coleman. That’s it. I gave her the keys, and she drove Trace home.”
Willow turned a shocked face to Harmony, and they burst out in unison, “We need to talk to the sheriff!”
* * *
“I don’t know why no one thought to ask him in the first place,” Sheriff Wender grumbled. “Just that both he and his wife never thought to mention there’d been somebody else driving. You’d think as an alibi, it would’ve come up.”
Willow wisely held her tongue on what she wanted to say, and instead offered, “Perhaps they didn’t realize. I know Trace was very hungover the next day, and they were both worried half out of their minds over Tiffany. It’s possible he didn’t remember someone else drove him home.”
A female voice cried out from the cells at the back of the office, but the sheriff turned a deaf ear to them, so Willow followed suit. Jasmin Coleman had still been ensconced in the Woodcock’s home when Sheriff Wender tracked her down to ask her some questions. The keys to Trace’s green Datsun had been in the pocket of the cut-off jeans she was wearing.
When the sheriff mentioned it to Willow, she’d shaken her head. “It’s almost like she wanted to get caught.”
“I’ve seen that with some perps,” he agreed. “It’s like their remorse leads them to do the exact things to guarantee they’ll be fingered for the crime.”
“Given what Clay did to Tiffany, I have a hard time feeling much regret about his death.”
“I’d rather he was alive to be locked up for his crime, instead of be
ing dealt with by a woman in a pique of rage.”
“I suppose Jasmin just snapped when she saw him while driving Trace home.”
“Yes.” The sheriff sat back in his seat and swung it from side to side. “It’s a pity he didn’t head home the back way, then he might’ve made it home alive. Though, since she was headed for the same place, it might not have guaranteed anything. The part I find hard to stomach is she used Trace’s vehicle to do the deed, then returned it into his garage, knowing he’d be one of the first people we’d investigate. No wonder Jasmin’s conscience was eating away at her.”
Willow nodded while the sheriff sat with his lips pursed, apparently deep in a reverie. She didn’t know whether she should break his mood or let it continue, since it seemed he was offering facts he’d usually keep his mouth shut about.
“I wonder if Jasmin would’ve been so mad at Clay if she knew he’d bundled his wife into the boot of the car at a rest stop when she tried to get away from him.”
That was a detail Tiffany had revealed to Willow at the hospital. For the two days she’d lain in the trunk, wondering if Clay would ever return to let her out, she’d gone over the situation repeatedly in her mind. If only she’d run flat out, instead of just walking.
Her mistake lay in underestimating exactly how mean Clay could be. When he grabbed her around the waist to drag her back to the car, it shocked Tiffany so she missed the chance to scream. By the time she realized how serious her position was, she lay trapped in the trunk and the vehicle was back on the road.
“Perhaps not. It’s lucky Clay told Jasmin at all. Otherwise, we might never have found Tiffany.”
I might never, Willow amended in her head, but she allowed the phrase to go unchallenged. If the sheriff wanted to take credit for her actions, let him. She was just glad to have her waitress and friend back in one piece.
“What will happen to Jasmin now?”
Sheriff Wender shrugged. “We’ll turn everything over to the prosecutor and let them decide how to proceed. As it stands, we’re a shoo-in for manslaughter and have good evidence for murder.”
Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 41