by B. Groves
Shirley was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with the logo of the coffee shop she owned embedded on it underneath a suede jacket.
Claire could see past the woman to spot a brand new Mercedes sitting in the driveway.
Wow. Business must be good for her.
Claire didn’t know how to react. She didn’t even know this woman, and she knew where Claire lived?
The whole town knew where Claire lived. She was the infamous granddaughter of Rose Kinsey.
She read the comments on the gossip article this morning while drinking her coffee.
She was apparently a leech and was cashing in on her grandmother’s death.
Some comments defended her, but most wondered how she could be so greedy.
Claire shook her head. She’d grown a thick skin over the years from bad reviews on her books.
You had to in the literary world, or you would never make it.
Claire stood there not saying anything, and Shirley shifted on her feet.
“I’m sorry for intrudin.’ I’m sure you’re still busy gettin’ settled and all,” Shirley said.
Claire snapped out of her thoughts from her comment. She seemed sincere enough.
“I’m sorry, I was expecting the cable company at the door. That’s why I was surprised,” Claire said.
“Oh, I see. If it makes you feel any better, your grandma was a regular customer of mine, and when she was sick with a cold or somethin’, I would deliver some goodies to her,” Shirley then scoffed and corrected herself. “I usually sent my girls because she was a good tipper.”
Shirley winked and laughed awkwardly when Claire just blinked.
Claire then smiled and thought why not. Her stomach was growling. “I apologize if I came off rude. Please, come in.”
Claire opened the door wider and Shirley stepped through the doorway.
Shirley looked up and down and side to side. Claire somehow knew that she’d been inside the house before as Shirley’s eyes went from the living area to down the hallway and back up the stairs.
“This place… this place never ceases to amaze me,” Shirley said with a shake of her head.
“It’s huge. I have a ton of work to do,” Claire said closing the door behind her.
Shirley turned with a grin and held up the box. “Coffee’s in here.” She held up the bag. “A dozen doughnuts and pastry are in here.” She turned her hand to show Claire the third bag. “Fresh cream and sugar, if you take it.”
Claire couldn’t help but smile. “Oh my God. That was so nice of you. You’re a lifesaver. How much do you want for all this?”
Shirley shook her head. “No way. Think of it as a housewarmin’ gift.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what to say,” Claire answered with genuine appreciation.
“If I can come inside for a moment and rest this big body before I head back to the shop to bake the rest of the day, we’ll call it even,” Shirley said.
“Please do,” Claire said. “Your timing couldn’t be better I just finished cleaning up the kitchen.”
“Excellent.”
Claire took the bags from Shirley’s hand and both women walked into the kitchen.
Shirley settled herself into one of the bar stools, groaning about how her afternoon baker called out and she would be in the kitchen the rest of the day.
“That boy,” She shook her head. “Needs a good lickin’, and if I were his mama, I wouldn’t hesitate.”
Claire placed the coffee box on the table and offered Shirley a cup to drink.
Shirley put up a hand and said, “Oh, no, darlin.’ That’s all you. My doctor would boot me in the butt. But, I can’t wait for you to try my special strawberry doughnut.”
Claire’s eyes lit up as her stomach rumbled. “Special?”
“I changed some recipes when I bought the shop. I have a special doughnut I only serve once a week. The jelly is homemade. Right from my mama’s recipe book.”
Claire made her coffee and took a sip. It was like heaven in a cup. The sweetened caramel colored liquid with the fresh cream went down her throat smoothly.
“Oh, so good,” Claire said almost moaning. “I haven’t had a chance to shop yet.”
“How come?”
“Rose’s fridge was left with all the food in it, and since I didn’t get here until now…”
Shirley made a disgusted face. “Ugh. That had to be bad.”
“It was cleaned this morning.”
Shirley opened the box of doughnuts and Claire’s mouth watered from the various confections inside.
Shirley grabbed a napkin and placed a powdered one in front of her, with the crimson-colored jam oozing from the side.
Claire took a tentative bite of the doughnut, the combination of sweetness and tartness played on her tongue in a certain dance.
She scrunched her eyebrows in thought. The jam tasted richer than other times she’s eaten it, especially from a jar.
“Yeah?” Shirley asked, waiting for her response.
Claire shook her head in pleasure. “This is amazing. That jam…”
“It’s a secret ingredient my mama taught me, and I swore to never give it away,” Shirley said.
“It’s so good,” Claire said, taking another bite.
Shirley smiled and said, “I knew your grandma pretty well.”
“Did you? Can you tell me more about her? Because all the rumors you heard aren’t true. I didn’t even know she was still alive,” Claire commented. “I came here to find out more about my mother’s family.”
Shirley looked shocked and said, “You didn’t know Rose was alive until July?”
Claire shook her head and said, “No. After my brother died, I went to live with my paternal grandparents in—”
“Your accent,” Shirley interrupted. “New York?”
Claire chuckled. “You’re close. New Jersey.”
“Same thing.”
Claire laughed and talked between mouthfuls of the gooey sweetness.
“What can you tell me?”
Shirley cocked her head to the side in thought. “Your grandma had a good a reason for sending you away. After your brother drowned, she was never the same, from what I hear from the old farts.”
“They said there were days she would walk through downtown to run errands and mumble to herself all crazy and stuff,” Shirley shook her head. “Like she was talkin’ to someone who wasn’t there. I don’t know if that’s true or not.”
Shirley put a hand over her chest. “She came into the shop every Sunday like clockwork. At 1 PM. She would come in at that time so the old farts in there wouldn’t bother her. She would order a tea, a bear claw, and sit and read the Sunday paper for one hour. At 2 PM she would order a half-dozen of whatever she was in the mood for and leave. She tipped my girls good, and although they were all afraid of her, she never raised her voice once even if her order was wrong. I think most of the rumors were bullshit.”
Claire nodded. “What about her deliveries?”
“You know when someone is feeling under the weather, they need somethin’ to get them by,” Shirley’s face scrunched up. “I know she had surgery on her back a few years ago and couldn’t make it into the shop, so she called and ordered her usual. I usually only deliver to businesses or parties, but I accommodated her because I think she was lonely.”
Claire shook her head in regret. She wished that Rose had contacted her somehow.
“Did she ever mention my parents or my brother?” Claire asked.
“She never spoke of ‘em,” Shirley explained. “I stopped to look at those beautiful portraits once, and she didn’t say much.”
Claire took the brooch from her pocket and fingered it. It was instinctive now for her carry it around.
“Oh, my, but that is pretty,” Shirley said.
“Thank you. Rose left it for me, and I feel I have a piece of my family in this,” Claire explained.
“Are you from here, Shirley?” Claire asked as she fingered the brooch.
<
br /> Shirley nodded while she checked her phone. “Born here, but I left to go live in West Virginia. I then came back for a while and left again, and met the most wonderful man in the world.”
Claire smiled at the softness in Shirley’s eyes. “He didn’t know how to run a business to save his life. We bought some restaurants, some failed, some didn’t. I think the stress was too much, and I lost him a year before I moved back here.”
“I’m so sorry,” Claire said.
Shirley smiled. “We weren’t blessed with children. The man had no business sense, but he made sure I was his queen.”
Claire leaned her elbow on the counter and rested her head in her hand. She was finding she liked Shirley. Shirley was like the mother she never knew. There was a familiarity about her that Claire never felt with any other woman, before including her Nana. The southern charm and the sweet disposition all wrapped in a neat package.
That was how Mary described her mother several times when she told her stories about her.
Before Claire could ask more questions, the doorbell rang and Claire made a face while Shirley turned and looked up at the ceiling.
“Sounds like a dying bird,” she commented.
Claire laughed. “Mine was broken Christmas bells.”
Both women laughed and Shirley said, “Well, that’s my queue to get my ass back to the shop.”
Both women stood up and Claire walked with Shirley down the hall, thanking her for the wonderful food and coffee this morning.
“You’re welcome, sugar. You better stop in and visit,” Shirley said after Claire greeted the cable guy waiting outside.
“I promise,” Claire said with a smile and Shirley walked down the stairs and left.
Claire was sad to her go. She enjoyed her company and would make good on her promise to stop by the shop again.
A few hours later, Claire had WIFI and cable while she continued to unpack.
After the cable guy left, Claire checked her messages and found Mac had texted her.
She sent a text back to him apologizing for not answering right away since she’d been busy.
“No problem. Bet you’re excited to be hooked up again.”
“You better believe it.”
“Busy today too. Call you tomorrow?”
“Looking forward to it.”
Claire sat back and smiled. She made two friends over two days. It was a nice surprise despite her misgivings about moving into Kinsey House.
13.
T hat morning Mac walked into the chief’s office to see if Joe was available.
Joe Biggs was a no-nonsense type of chief of police. He did not tolerate games or slacking off from his employees. When he was elected, he inherited a mess inside the department, and for the last eight years, he’d been sweeping out the trash and replacing it with shiny, new equipment and even shiny, new employees. His interviews were some of the toughest in the state. Mac remembered a few prospects walking out of his office in tears, and that was just from the initial interview.
Joe was not the typical chief one would see on television. The kind with the big belly, an even bigger ego, sucking on a big cigar. Not Joe. He was tall and thin with a Caesar type of haircut with gray speckled through his black hair.
People were often fooled by his lanky physique. Mac had seen him take down men three times his size plenty of times, fooling the people around him.
Joe’s skin had become tan and leathery from years of traveling to exotic locations in Asia. Before he was promoted to Chief of Police in Lingate, he’d taken a sabbatical in Nepal, and came back a changed man.
He practiced Tai Chi regularly. He switched from Christianity to practice Buddhism. His office was set up for someone to keep their stress at a minimum with lots of greenery. The staff snickered behind his back. There was a never-ending rumor he lovingly talked to his plants while watering them.
Joe didn’t care what the other staff said behind his back. He said he was there to serve his department and his community, and they could say what they wanted to about him.
Mac joined him a few times for his tai chi classes and found them relaxing while becoming more focused. He’d been neglecting that lately and would have to ask when the next class was in session.
Unlike some other members of the department, Mac respected him and found him to be fair and honest.
“I don’t want us to end up making national news,” Joe said once. “I want everyone to respect us.”
Mac knocked on his office door and waited for a response. He heard Joe tell him to enter and cracked open the door.
Joe looked up from his computer and said, “Mornin’ Mac.”
“Hey, Joe. You got a minute?”
“Come on in, Mac,” Joe said looking up from his computer and leaning against his desk.
Mac walked into the office and sat down in front of the chief, adjusting his belt.
All Mac could smell was greenery. A light and refreshing scent that set off a few people’s allergies time to time.
“What can I do for you?” Joe asked as Mac got settled.
“Do you remember the Kinsey case?”
Joe leaned forward on the desk in thought and asked, “Which one? Where you found Rose Kinsey?”
Mac scoffed. He forgot there were other cases besides Rose Kinsey’s death. Claire’s parents, David Westcott, among other family member troubles dating back one-hundred years or more.
“I’m talking about David Westcott,” Mac said.
Joe nodded and said, “I heard his sister moved back to town.”
Mac shifted in his chair. He didn’t want to reveal he had dinner with Claire. “I think the whole town is talking about it. Anyway, what do you remember?”
“It’s been a long time, but it was Kevin Siner who led the case and let me tell you, Mac, that boy haunted him to his grave,” Joe said.
Mac was surprised. He knew Kevin. Kevin’s lifestyle of fast food, lots of booze, and lots more women led him to a heart attack right at his desk. They said he was dead before he slumped over and fell out of his chair about three years ago.
But, Kevin was a dedicated detective who took all his cases personally, as if he’d lost part of his own family.
“I didn’t know Kevin worked that case,” Mac said.
“Until the day he died,” Joe said with a shake of his head. “He fought for so long to try to get Rose prosecuted, but without a body, it was impossible. The feds told him to fuck off, the case was closed, but Kevin kept it open. I closed it after his funeral.”
“What made him suspicious?” Mac asked, intrigued. He wished now he had read deeper into the case this morning.
“Most of Kevin’s suspicions came from the granddaughter,” Joe explained. “Kevin swore up and down that little girl was coached. However, she insisted her brother was fine before she left for school.” Joe rubbed his chin. “Kevin would have been in my office faster than you could say her name to call her in here for questioning if he were alive today.”
“What do you think?”
“It was obvious that little girl was traumatized,” Joe said shaking his head. “She was close to her brother. I found it weird that Rose sent her off to live with family in New York not long after we gave up the search.”
“New Jersey,” Mac corrected before he could stop himself.
Mac closed his eyes for a second when he realized his correction because when he opened them, he saw Joe eyeing him with suspicion.
“How did you know that?”
“I met her yesterday,” Mac wouldn’t elaborate. “She and I had a short conversation. She didn’t state that she suspected any foul play.”
Joe smirked but didn’t ask more questions. “Kevin never let up on Rose, but if there was something else to that story, Rose never let on. She kept her secret and dead people don’t talk. Did Miss Westcott say anything else?”
Mac shook his head. “No. Nothing that would give us any reason to reopen the case.”
“I
believe Kevin’s instincts were correct, but I’m not going to jump through hoops to have a cold case reopened just because Rose’s granddaughter came back to town. If she remembers anything, she can come to us,” Joe said.
Mac nodded, and they were done with the conversation. Mac agreed with Joe, but for as long as he knew Kevin, that man always solved his cases, and when they didn’t find David Westcott’s body, he always said that Rose was the key to the missing little boy, but she wasn’t talking.
Rich families like the Kinsey family always held secrets that the rest of the world was not privy to.
He learned that from working that beat in that part of the neighborhood. Those people would do anything to hang onto their assets, but the truth always found a weird way of showing itself.
But, with this case, many years already passed since David allegedly drowned, Rose was dead, and never slipped from her story, so Mac wasn’t so sure why he was asking about the case.
Maybe it was because Claire told him that she had a hard time remembering any details.
She was only six years old. That was completely normal from Mac’s experience.
It was the way she said it, where she had a dark pit in her gut that haunted her for years. She thought it was from not having a family like everyone else.
No. It was strange how Rose would give up custody of her only remaining grandchild so easily, especially not long after losing her only daughter.
Mac frowned wondering if Kevin was right all along. It was a strong possibility that David Westcott did not drown. But how did he die? Why were they only able to recover a shoe?
Mac sat down at his desk and pulled up the case file. Kevin’s handwriting was hard to understand on the photocopy from the computer.
He thought about searching out the file to read later.
The house was thoroughly searched with cadaver dogs under Kevin’s orders with Rose’s full cooperation. Nothing. Search dogs combed the area and found David’s scent right by the riverbank. Rose passed her polygraph test with flying colors.
On paper, the case was open and shut. The boy wandered off from his grandmother and somehow made it to the river. He must have slipped into the water and got swept away by the strong current.