Too Sweet to Die

by T. Doyle

  St. Paul’s Tuesday afternoon schedule included Bingo, The Gardening Club, planting bulbs for the Spring, and the Fall Festival Decorating Committee asked for volunteers and costume donations to be dropped off from four to six today. I figured Grace would volunteer to decorate since her children would go to the Festival. Buried in the recesses of the hall closet I still had a box of the kids’ old costumes.

  I pulled another donut out of the bag and allowed the delicious carbohydrate and fat to counteract the abundance of caffeine and forced my brain cells to prioritize what to do next. Besides, anxiety burns calories, right?

  With the printout of Tyler’s schedule, I used Oscar’s tablet. He’d saved his password for his photo album on the cloud and I tried to match pictures to court dates. I started with the Bias’s adoption. The pictures on Oscar’s computers featured a historic neighborhood. They seemed familiar so I grabbed the photos Oscar had printed and that I’d hidden in the China hutch. The printed photo had been cropped, and focused on a license plate. The next photo was a wider view, and could have been the neighborhood near Tyler’s office. The photos that Oscar printed all featured a car, but never the same car. On the day of the Bias’s adoption, Oscar had taken a picture of a white Ford Taurus. The next photo featured a blue Toyota Camry, but there was nothing written on Tyler’s schedule either for an appointment or court. Maybe this was the car that picked up the baby? The third photo was taken in front of the courthouse. In the background a black SUV was parked against the curb and a white Nissan Maxima.

  Weird that Oscar would take pictures of different cars. Boring cars. But then I realized Joe and I had rented similar at one time or another. The Taurus, Camry, and Maxima could be rental cars and Oscar took photos of the license plates. I searched through his cloud photo album and wrote the dates he took the pictures on the back of the photos. If the police searched, I’m sure they could figure out who rented the cars.

  I’d give the printed photographs to Tom, but I worried that someone might hack into Oscar’s on-line photo album and delete the pictures. To be safe, I took screen-shots of Oscar’s cloud album, and the pictures he printed and then emailed them to Ray and myself.

  I took a closer look at the black SUV in the photo. Although I couldn’t see the license plate, there was a TapOut sticker on the back. I’d seen that car in front of Tyler’s office. I called Ray.

  The call connected but I heard Jenny’s voice. “You’re not listening to me.”

  “Ma, I’m on the phone.” Ray sounded frustrated. “Tell me you need me to come get you,” he whispered.

  “I can hear you just fine, Raylin. Is that Charlie? Tell her what I saw.” Jenny’s voice rose and I was pretty sure all the residents at Sunnyview could hear her.

  “Ma saw someone sneaking out of Evie’s room last night. She thinks it was one of Johnny Marino’s kids. She’s sure he’s dropped off drugs.”

  “I’ll let Marabel know,” I said.

  “She’ll let Marabel know. Now, will you let me talk to her?” Ray asked his mother. He spoke, “Did you find something good?”

  “I think so.” I explained to Ray about Oscar’s photos of the rental cars. “And I’m going to talk to Grace, Tyler’s ex, and ask her which of Tyler’s friends she hated.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Ray said.

  “No way. I’m meeting her at St. Paul’s. It’s safe and she’ll be more likely to gossip without you standing over me.”

  Ray grunted. “Fine. But text me when you leave the house and get there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Dad. Tell Jenny I’ll let you know if Marabel finds more drugs in Evie’s room.” I ended the call and texted Marabel.

  Marabel texted back. Jenny was right. Got it on video. Police are investigating, I’ll tell you more later.

  I texted Ray. Marabel said guy is on video. Police checking it out.

  He replied, She knows and is driving me crazy.

  I imagined she was, and that added a smile to my face. I stood, stretching my back and shook my leg to get some feeling back into my toes.

  Stupid sciatica.

  In the hall closet, the costume box had been pushed to the very back turning the search for a costume into more of an excavation. I pulled out the tub of Christmas ornaments, sleeping bags, a box of old ski pants, boots, and gloves, and a box of trophies.

  Remnants of wonderful times hidden away.

  I peeled off the cracked cover of the huge blue plastic tub and the scent of stale dust wafted toward me. Drew’s fireman costume, the one I’d made when he was four, brought back the sweetest memories of him wearing it until it no longer fit. I dug further into the box, past princess dresses, the kitten costume, alien, skeleton, and found Drew and Ann’s lederhosen and dirndl costumes from when they played Hansel and Gretel in a school play. I pulled them out and replaced the others. I’m not sure why I wanted to save the old costumes, I had dozens of pictures of the kids wearing them. I should give them all away, except the momma bear in me roared, no!

  Was this why Margarita hoarded?

  I replaced all the boxes and decided I’d ask the kids if they cared if I donated their old ski clothes and costumes. I didn’t want to become some kind of menopausal, middle-aged housewife with a secret shrine to the past.

  I added the costumes to the washing machine and started a load. Eddie and his cousin arrived with a brand-new sliding door. They replaced my broken door and I cleaned out the refrigerator, tossed the garbage, cleaned the bathrooms, and wondered how much Parker Collins’s maid charged.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  St. Paul’s Episcopalian Church was located across the street from my own parish, St. Lawrence. I pulled into the parking lot and waved to Marabel’s mother, Ida.

  Ida knelt in front of a flower bed with a trowel in one hand and bulbs in the other. “Charlie, what do you have there?” She pointed her trowel at the costumes.

  “I thought I’d drop these off for the Fall Festival,” I smiled brightly.

  She dropped her trowel and tulips and stood, brushing her hands on her pants. Her smile wavered. “Well, that’s nice. The ladies in the rectory will help you.” She motioned to the low building situated off the church and fell into step beside me. She patted my arm, leaving bits of earth behind. “It’s hard, isn’t it.”

  I swallowed, unsure if she meant Oscar, or being responsible for several families being broken apart, or the attempt on my life.

  Her warm and kind smile returned. “I remember when Marabel left for college. I think I spent weeks wondering what I was going to do. I joined the garden club back then. These ladies saved me from going crazy.” She eyed my grey hairs. “I know it seems like your life is over, but Charlie, there’s so much you can do. Have you considered volunteering?”

  “Oh?” Jeez, maybe hanging on to the kids costumes this long was a bad sign. Like I’d been hoarding all along and now it was obvious. “I do play Trivial Pursuit at Sunnyview a couple times of month.”

  She gave me an indulgent smile.

  “And you know I’m still working there. With Marabel.”

  She nodded. “Oh yes, part-time.”

  “It’s almost full-time.” Sheesh. What next?

  “Right, right.” She patted my arm again. “You know, I think it’s wonderful that you’re here today.” She looked up at the sky and back at me. “I think you’d really love Father Dave’s homilies.”

  “I’m sure he’s wonderful.” I attempted a smile but Momma Sanders would kill me if I went to a different church. Panic over lying to Ida versus facing the wrath of Momma made sweat break out on my upper lip and my cheeks heated.

  Freakin’ hot flash.

  Ida opened the rectory door. “Here we are.”

  The rectory looked like someone with a Pinterest addiction and unfettered access to the hobby store was given free rein. Friendly scarecrows and bales of hay were stacked in one corner but there was a whole spooky vibe with bats, spiders, and a ferocious-looking werewolf in the
other. The third corner had a castle theme, and the last corner had candy in cauldrons.

  “Well, this is really something.” I walked to the center of the room where a woman with more hair than head sat at a table gluing googley eyes to small pumpkins.

  Ida stepped forward. “Margie, this is Charlie Sanders. She has some costumes to donate.”

  Margie looked up, her head wobbled, likely due to the weight of the twisted updo. Her face looked surprised, or that could have been the Botox and plastic surgery.

  “Those are adorable,” a voice cooed from near the castle. Grace Godwin, Tyler’s ex-wife, walked over. She rocked the girl next-door look with her big blue eyes and brunette hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Thank you. They’re probably sizes eight and ten.”

  Grace reached for the Gretel costume.

  “You’re in good hands now,” Ida said.

  “What color tulips are you planting?” Margie asked Ida.

  Grace and I stepped away from the women.

  “Did you sew them?” Grace asked.

  I handed her the lederhosen. “I did.” I did not preen. Okay, maybe I stood a little taller. “Drew and Ann were Hansel and Gretel in a school play.”

  Grace fingered the ribbons I’d sewn onto the dirndl. “You are so talented.”

  I instantly liked Grace. “Thanks. I loved making the kids costumes and I do an occasional hem, but I haven’t sewn in years. Do you sew?”

  Grace hung the costumes on a garment rack. “I belong to the quilters guild. You should join us. We’re always looking for new blood.” She faced me, put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “But I don’t think that’s what brought you here today.” She tilted her chin and her eyes softened, and seemed sad. “How can I help you, Charlie.”

  Her kindness and sympathy hit me hard. We were connected through Tyler.

  I went for honesty. “Have you heard the FBI is investigating Tyler’s death?”

  She nodded, and cast a furtive glance in Margie and Ida’s direction.

  I leaned closer. “I hoped you might know an old acquaintance of Tyler’s that could have dragged him into the adoption… thing,” I ended on a whisper and avoided using the actual words.

  Her eyes widened and she guided me further away from Ida and Margie. “I hated his college roommate, Peter Adkins.” She lowered her voice. “I threatened to call off the wedding if he made him a groomsman.” She twisted her lips. “I should have, anyway.”

  My heart weighed heavy in my chest. “I’m so sorry your first marriage was bad.”

  She gave me a strained smile. “I’m much happier now, of course, but thank you. I feel like everyone is judging me, like, how could I have been so stupid to marry him in the first place. And before…” She shrugged. “Before they gave me horrible stares because of…”

  Her baby born seven months after the divorce.

  “People aren’t too happy to see me, either,” I admitted. “I hate that my questions uncovered…”

  The fact that your ex-husband was involved in human trafficking.

  She nodded. “We both did the right thing.” Her head tilted and a warm smile settled on her face. “And we both have amazing husbands to support us.”

  “Very true. Could you tell me why you hated Peter Adkins so much?” I asked.

  Her head bobbled, nodding so fast it looked like she was shivering. “Beside the fact he had gang tattoos on his neck, he would call Tyler in the middle of the night and Ty would disappear for a day or two, and then he’d never tell me what happened, just that Peter needed him.”

  “Why were they so close?”

  Grace sighed. “Ty was…” She squinted and looked at the ceiling. “Well, it’s not right to speak ill of the dead but he had some quirks that made it difficult for him to fit in.”

  “What kind of quirks?” I whispered. Please don’t let it be sexual.

  “He had to have things a certain way, you know? Like he’d only wear a certain brand of socks. He had meatloaf every Tuesday for dinner–weird ritual kind of things. His freshman year in college he went through three roommates before Peter moved in. They lived together all through college, even got an apartment their Junior year. They went through law school together. Peter was Tyler’s divorce attorney.” She put her hands up. “I didn’t know how bad Tyler’s quirks were until after we married and lived together. I just thought he was super neat, you know? And Forest Forks is kind of small, so always going to the same restaurant on a Friday night didn’t seem too strange.”

  I nodded in understanding. “I get that. I’m waiting for the day the waitress serves us food before taking our order at We Knead Pizza.”

  She nodded emphatically. “Right? It was a little thing I didn’t even pick up on. But he became worse after we got married. Like, he wanted to keep things a certain way and I was just supposed to go along like Peter did.”

  “Why do you think Peter went along with his quirks for all those years,” I asked.

  “Because Tyler paid the rent, the expenses, everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if Peter cheated off Tyler all through law school. After the divorce, I heard that Peter was disbarred. Something about inappropriate conduct with a client. I think that’s when he persuaded Tyler to do things for him, used Tyler, guilted him into doing things because he was his only friend.”

  His only friend? “Who was Tyler’s Best Man at your wedding?”

  “His cousin. I had to get married with only three bridesmaids because Tyler only had three male cousins.” She shook her head. “I should have known, but I was so young and he seemed so perfect.”

  I nodded. “Sure, a successful lawyer paying you attention. I bet your mom was thrilled.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Was she ever. She and Tyler kept pushing me to get pregnant. Thank God that never happened.” She looked heavenward. “I mean it. Thanks.”

  “Did you tell the police about Peter?” I asked.

  “They haven’t talked to me. I keep waiting for them to come by, but…” She shrugged.

  “You said he had gang tattoos. What made you think that?” I asked.

  “When I asked him who ‘Eme’ was, he laughed and told me it was a club he belonged to. I looked it up later. It’s the letter ‘M’ for ‘Mexican mafia’. He has a huge Mexican eagle on his back with the word ‘Mexikanemi’ under it, too. I thought it was the Spanish word for Mexican.” She frowned. “The thing is, Tyler was so sweet when we dated. I mean he had his quirks but he was good to me. I don’t think he’d ever have done anything like this on his own.”

  “I understand. Thank you so much for your honesty. Would you care if I told the FBI about Peter?” I asked.

  “You should. And you should be careful.”

  Her warning sent a chill through me. “I’m trying. Someone broke into my house yesterday. Thankfully, I wasn’t home, but I’m rattled.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “Do you know where Peter lives now?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “He was living in Ohio when we divorced, near Cincinnati.”

  The TapOut SUV stuck in my mind. “Do you remember what kind of car he drove?”

  “It was years ago, but back then he drove a big truck, dark blue. His family supposedly had a farm, livestock of some kind. I thought it was weird, because he seemed more thug than rancher.”

  “Oh?” I squeaked. My insides shuddered. “You need to be careful, too. Because the kidnapped babies could have come from a…” I whispered into her ear, “Baby farm.” I leaned back. “If he killed Tyler, you could be in danger, too. You knew he was Tyler’s only friend.”

  She paled. “Oh, my. I hadn’t… I mean… Oh, my.” She patted her front pocket and pulled out her keys. “I need to go.”

  “Grace, talk to the FBI. Ask for Agent Simms. Tom Garner at the Sheriff’s Department can get you in contact with them directly.”

  “I will.” She squeezed my arm. “Good luck, Charlie.”

  “You
too.”

  She grabbed her purse from under Margie’s table, murmured an excuse, and walk-jogged out the door.

  I waved to Margie and Ida and followed Grace outside. She sprinted across the parking lot and got into a white minivan. I had a feeling she wouldn’t slow down until she had her kids in her arms.

  I typed a text to all three of my kids. I love you all bunches. Please be extra careful. I think Tyler’s killer might be in a gang.

  The kids answered back with thumbs up emojis. I worried they weren’t taking their mother seriously. Harping would only annoy them, and they’d only be safe when this was over. And this middle-aged momma was going to see it end. My cautious drive to the Sheriff’s Department didn’t improve my mood. The yellow and orange leaves scattered on the roadway flittered like confetti behind my car, an obtrusive announcement I drove alone and unarmed.

  Tom’s desk was covered in folders. He stood. “Come on in, Charlie.”

  I handed him the envelope with photos. “Tom, I’ve got some information for you.” I told him about Oscar’s pictures of rental cars and Peter Adkins.

  Tom flipped through the photos. “Why’d you bring these to me?”

  I waggled my eyebrows. “Because Agent Krakauer accused me of killing Tyler and I thought it’d be nice if someone local brought him good evidence, instead of him just taking it.”

  Tom smiled and chuckled. “The sheriff will appreciate that.” He tilted his chin. “Any other problems at your place?”

  “No. Eddie replaced the door, but Joe and I have planned to spend the night at the cabin.”

  He stood. “That’s a good idea.” He navigated me toward the exit. “I’ll add more patrols out your way.”

  I shook his hand. “Thanks, Tom. Maybe check on Grace Godwin, too. She was a little spooked.”

  At home, I packed for the cabin and wondered if Momma Sanders would be disappointed that I was letting someone chase me out of my own home.