by Beth Byers
Keith didn’t seem all that excited at the prospect of spending time with her family, but he asked for coffee when their orders were taken and let his wife order the grand tea. The only options were the style of tea, vegetarian or not, and grand tea or mini tea. I ordered the grand for Simon and I, since I wanted to try every single weird thing that Josephine made.
I grinned at him as he muttered under his breath, “Clotted cream?”
“You’re trying it,” I told him.
He scowled.
“Then you can have all the normal stuff. But clotted cream, you’re trying it.”
He tried for a grin, but I shook my head. I had finally gotten him to admit that he liked my cinnamon frosting on vanilla cake. A huge step? Not really. But I’d take it.
“Why don’t you let him pick what he eats?” Keith grouched. He glanced at Simon and then muttered, “Women!”
That sealed it, Simon would definitely try the clotted cream and pretend he liked it. I could work with that much.
Josephine brought us each our own small pot of tea, and I poured the one she’d picked out for me and grinned at Margaret.
“So how big is your family?”
Margaret ignored her scowling husband and told me about two five sisters who were meeting them in Silver Falls. There were actually three tables full of their family. Both sisters, a few children of the oldest sister, and some older teenage girls. Simon shifted just enough to show he caught what I had. Keith and Margaret where at a table where they could have shared with someone else, and their family hadn’t chosen to sit with them? I couldn’t even imagine. Granted, I was an only child and my mother was an only child, but still…why would you have a family reunion and not…unite?
Family made things difficult I knew. Even though I hadn’t really had one of my own until I moved to Silver Falls—when there was high emotion and history between people—both good and bad, you were more likely to feel things bigger. When an old co-worker snubs a person, they shake it off. It isn’t as easy when it’s the person you shared a room, a table, and holidays with over the course of your life. Simon’s family didn’t live in Silver Falls except for his cousin.
“Where have you been so far?” I asked the couple across from me.
Keith scowled at me while Margaret said, “Oh we went to a lovely little boutique. I got some things for my grandchildren at that hand-crafted toy shop, and some chocolates for my kids over at the Bruce’s Candy Kitchen shop. My children all have sweet-tooths.”
“That diner wasn’t so bad,” Keith said. “Their waffles are ridiculous, but the chicken fried steak and gravy was good. Not too greasy like most places.”
Simon grinned at me with a wide, naughty teasing thing and asked, “You talking about 2nd Chance Diner?”
“That’s the one,” Keith replied sniffing his tea as if it were vomit.
“Been there,” Simon said. “The owner is a little to adventurous in her cooking.”
I squeaked and kicked him with my heel.
“Bunch of food there was weird,” Keith agreed. “They were serving cheddar and apple pie, can you believe that?”
Simon’s grin was as wide as a crocodile as he said, “Now their chocolate cake is something you’ll dream about.”
Keith looked intrigued as two tiered stacks of plates were placed between each of us. There were chocolate covered strawberries and petit fours, little triangles of sandwiches and thick muffins with small jars of thick white stuff and a couple kinds of jam.
“Oh,” Margaret and I breathed together as both the men scowled and leaned back. I nudged Simon and handed him a muffin and the thick white stuff. It looked a little bit like sour cream and a little bit like butter, and Simon winced a little before he spread it over a plain muffin.
I waited because I was pretty sure Simon would like it. He took a bite like a toddler being forced to eat Brussels sprouts.
“Why don’t you just say no?” Keith demanded
Simon glanced at Keith and then took a huge bite. His eyes widened just a bit, and I knew I had been right. I was going to enjoy the I-told-you-so’s immensely.
“Oh,” Margaret cut-in, probably trying to de-sour her husband, “Honey, try this.”
She handed her husband the small chocolate-covered cake decorated with pink icing flowers and he popped the entire thing in his mouth. She watched his face, looking for a reaction, but he just shrugged. I wanted to kick him for being such a jerk, but I was determined to at least enjoy my tea.
I found a cucumber sandwich and sniffed at it. Josephine had flavored it dill, garlic…I was pretty sure I smelled some fresh parsley? I took the little dab of the cream cheese mixture that was hanging off the side of the white bread and tasted that. Simple, I though, probably cream cheese, mayo, and herbs. It was delightful all the same, and even Simon didn’t seem to mind the sandwich so much though he definitely preferred the roast beef and horseradish.
Margaret and I finished our full teapots, and I made a bit of a dent of Simon’s while we lingered over the tea. Even Keith didn’t seem to mind the food so much and Simon squeezed my hand and diverted Keith onto fishing stories so Margaret and I could enjoy our tea. It took nearly two hours for us to enjoy the experience and Josephine’s tearoom was slowly emptied until only those who remained at the B&B were all that were left. The other couples were not those who had been pointed out to me as Margaret’s relatives, and I couldn’t help but notice that the two couples hadn’t swung by her table to say goodbye.
Perhaps they were avoiding Keith? He was a sour old man that was for sure.
Margaret placed a hand over her stomach and said, “Oh dear me, I think…”
She paled and turned a horrible shade of green, and I gasped. She coughed. Once. Twice, and then rose. She was probably going to make a break for the bathroom off of the tearoom, but she staggered into next table. It was a delicate spindly thing, and it collapsed under her weight sending the leftovers, the china, and everything flying. Everything including Margaret.
Unfortunately, both Simon and I had been through things like this enough to not hesitate. He ran for the door while I ran for Margaret. Keith, however, beat me to her. He grabbed her up in his arms and cried out, “Maggie! Maggie, baby.”
She moaned and curled into him even as she gagged.
“So thirsty,” she said and then started heaving.
Keith didn’t flinch away from his wife. I assumed he would, and I felt bad for it. He carefully pushed her hair back and pleaded, “Help.” He looked down at her face and cupped her cheek as Simon so often cupped mine and then he begged, “Stay with me baby. Stay with me.”
“Simon went for the doctor,” I promised Keith finding that I was crying along with him. Watching Margaret struggle to live was terrible. “It’ll be faster than calling.”
“But I called,” Josephine said. Her eyes were wide with worry, and I didn’t blame her one bit.
“Good,” I moved what I could away from Keith and Margaret. She heaved helplessly into her husband’s chest, crying as she did. Through her tears, I noticed that she started to shake.
Oh my goodness, I thought. Margaret jerked in her husband’s arms and then fell still.
“Maggie?” He whispered and then shouted, “Where is the doctor?”
It wouldn’t matter, I thought, Jane would be too late. Maggie was dead.
Chapter 3
I hadn’t been wrong. I took a chair at the back of the tearoom and stared as Jane came in, took in the scene, and crossed slowly to Margaret and Keith. He was holding her and rocking her, and I felt like I’d been punched right in my kidneys. My air was gone, my heart was hurting, and already I was exhausted. I was just so tired of all this death.
I jerked a breath in, almost a sob, and was wracked with terrible coughing. My lungs were on fire, and the tightness in my chest made it seem certain that I was going to suffocate in a room full of oxygen. Simon crossed to me and held me close to him while I fought for my breath. The second I li
fted my face to his, eyes streaming with tears from the battle to breathe, he cupped my chin. I could see the concern in his gaze, and it warmed me. It was moments like these that made it so clear that he loved me. The little things were what added up to being in love. Like the Beatles song, sometimes you just needed to hold someone’s hand. Simon pressed a cup of water into my hands and helped me get it to my mouth. I was shaking from the coughing fit and I struggled to swallow it down.
The afternoon tea at Josephine’s Tearoom ended after The 2nd Chance Diner closed, so I wasn’t surprised to find Zee standing in the tearoom. She probably knew about the death before the sheriff had. I almost wondered if she was everyone’s first call for gossip, but I knew better. She was the first call. Like there was a game in Silver Falls and the winner was the first one to tell Zee something she didn’t know.
Either way, Carver was here in the room too. As the sheriff, he was sort of in charge even though it was hard to be with Zee around. He didn’t look all that pleased at her presence. I had to grin at the frustrated look on his face that kept trying to blank to impassivity. Zee might be my best friend and my employee, but he was her…boyfriend? Zee had never put a real label on her and Carver. They were something though.
I watched Jane work on Margaret from a distance. I could see that Jane was trying because she wanted to Keith to believe nothing could be done rather than because she thought it would help. There was something a little hopeless about her mouth that confirmed to me that Margaret really was gone.
It was strange to watch things play out from the sidelines like this. To see Jane work on Margaret, to see Keith cry and beg his wife to stay with him, to see Josephine’s hand wringing, while the EMT stood at the ready to give Jane anything and everything she needed. Carver had a police officer with the other guests in a separate room while Simon and I…just watched.
The over the top decoration of the tearoom made the tragedy in the center all the worse. Spindly tea tables scattered the room, too weak to hold the falling body of Margaret. Broken china across the floor making you wonder what else this home had seen. What other tragedies had happened in this house?
Something gently brushed my hair off my forehead, and I looked up to see Simon’s gaze fixed on the scene before us. He was absently playing with my hair as he took in our friends and poor Keith and Margaret.
Was Carver going to pull Simon in on the case? I imagined so. From this side of the room, I could see him hiss something to Zee. I didn’t need to hear him to know he was telling her to butt out of the case. I also didn’t need to hear her to know she was snorting meanly and ignoring him. Her knobby knees poked out under her 2nd Chance Diner shirt dress, her straight white hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes were sharp with interest.
She hadn’t seen Margaret fall, so Zee couldn’t possibly know that she’d been fine when we’d been seated at the same table. Zee couldn’t know that Margaret had liked the chocolate covered strawberries the best, and her husband had made sure to leave them for her. He’d groused about not fishing but then silently been thoughtful. I didn’t like Keith, I didn’t like how he’d been rude without concern, but I also saw a man broken in front of me.
How long had they been married? Margaret had said her oldest daughter was in her 40s. She had grandchildren who were in high school. Hadn’t she said something about one being at UW? I was sure she had. He was a history major? So smart and handsome. How many people would be devastated by her loss? Four children, I couldn’t remember how many grandchildren, but 10? 11? So many who would be losing their grandma today. Who had lost her.
Jane was holding Keith’s hands, leaning into him. She was probably gently saying that she couldn’t do anything else. That no one could have. That she was sorry. It made me sick in my heart and my stomach to see it. It made me philosophical to have seen her die. To wonder about all those who’d be shaken and broken down by their loss.
Zee’s mouth was tight as she said something to Carver. I was sure she wanted to know that this was a terrible tragedy. The result of a bad heart perhaps, but I didn’t think that was had happened. Maybe it was because I’d just faced so much murder, maybe it was because of some sort of sixth sense, maybe it was because Margaret had been bright and happy and she’d faded so quickly. I didn’t know anything, but I was drained from all that I had experienced over the previous year and terrified that this was, yet another, murder.
I was recovering from nearly being killed myself, exhausted emotionally with all the things I’d seen people do to each other lately. I was broken down spiritually just being the witness of it all. I desperately wanted to beg that this thing that had happened to Margaret be nothing other than a tragedy.
I wanted to shake my first and stomp my feet and if I did…I wouldn’t be able to breathe because my lungs had been inside too many fires in the last year, and I was having a hard time just being able to talk and breathe and walk.
Zee was here to find out if this was a murder. I was terrified that it had been. She would learn the truth and she’d be on the case, refusing to let someone’s life be stolen without justice. So our good sheriff, Carver, might as well accept that Zee wouldn’t be removing her nose from what had happened. In reality, she couldn’t. She was connected to everyone in and around Silver Falls.
She had a one-up on the police that even long-time locals like Carver couldn’t match. I loved her, and I loved that she was so connected to everyone, but right in the moment, I wanted to flinch away from her. She’d dragged me into most of the murder cases that I’d been involved in. I wasn’t sure I could handle one now. With my lungs, I could barely handle my daily life let alone following Zee around as she gossiped her way through a case.
“Are you ok?” Simon asked me, still playing with my hair.
I nodded and then he grabbed me, hugging me so hard, it was difficult for me to breathe. “I thought…just for a second…that whatever hurt Margaret was taking you too.”
He cursed and held me even tighter. I whispered into his chest that I was ok, but I wasn’t sure he heard me. I looked up at him, but he was watching over my head towards the scene where Jane was trying and failing to help Margaret.
I pulled back and whispered, “I’m ok. It’s just my lungs. Everything is all right.”
Simon didn’t let me go, not even when Jane stopped working on Margaret and Keith followed them, broken, to the ambulance. Carver and Zee followed after, but it took only moments for her to say something to Carver and get inside the ambulance beside Keith.
Had Margaret had a heart attack? But no…I didn’t think a heart attack victim experienced nausea. Maybe? I really didn’t know, but I was just…everything seemed so messed up. What had happened? I thought back. She had stumbled. Had it been because she was having a stroke? I wanted her death to be something easy—like a stroke. Not that strokes were easy. They were terrifying, but they weren’t what I afraid of right then.
Only…I didn’t think you vomited when you were having a stroke. And there was the way her body shook at the end, before she’d finally stopped seeing. That seemed to me like a seizure. None of this sounded like a heart attack or a stroke. Her death had been sudden too—she’d been fine when she’d sat down. Her eyes had been bright with irritation at Keith and excited at the tea. She’d happily talked about her children and home without ever seeming as if a single thing were off.
That was like a stroke. Those hit you hard and fast, except the vomiting and the seizure. What else could I remember? There had been no hint of nausea for Margaret. I tried to remember what she’d eaten besides the tea, but after the first few bites of trying things, I hadn’t really paid attention. I had been enjoying the food myself, the chatter, the call of the seagulls flying over the street.
Nothing about this death, I thought, was normal. I didn’t want to say the ‘M’ word, I never wanted to hear that word again, but I was pretty sure that was what we were dealing with. I rubbed my face into Simon’s chest. He wasn’t saying it
either. He wasn’t crossing to Carver to see how to help. Simon and I both wanted this to be a terrible accident. Something that didn’t need him or me. Nothing beyond our condolences to her family and our gratitude in being together.
I knew Simon would eventually cross to help though. He wasn’t a man who avoided responsibility and nothing would get him to act more quickly than injustice. Especially at this level.
“We were supposed to be having a break,” he told the top of my head.
“Mini golf was fun,” I said. “The Naughty Noodle place was fun.” My voice had too much rasp, so I cut off further comments. If I choked on my own spit again and started coughing, Simon was going to lose it.
Or I would. I’d be the one puking. Coughing until I puked, freaking him out and probably getting myself hauled to the hospital to check to see if what was wrong with me was something more than being in a house when it had been set on fire. I hadn’t needed anyone to tell me that those things weren’t great for your lungs, but I got a reconfirmation when I got to experience it myself. Again.
I wondered if Jane had told Carver what killed Margaret? Had she whispered murder? Or, I don’t know yet? Was it possible that Jane could have given an educated guess with what she’d known? I wasn’t sure that I could say anything other than I knew it was murder. I was sure they’d come back and say that.
I glanced at Zee who was staring back at me. She looked more concerned than invigorated. I supposed it was because I’d almost died the last time we’d gotten caught up in the madness of a murder investigation. It didn’t matter how many cases we’d worked, I didn’t understand why people killed each other. I guess…I did understand it. Because I tended to put the pieces together so well. I could see the motivation. But I couldn’t feel it. Not often and even when I could, I couldn’t really get it. I understood being angry. I understood divorcing or breaking up or quitting your job or moving on when you were outraged. But killing for money or outrage or love…love turned to hate? That I couldn’t understand so much.