by Tess Rothery
Taylor didn’t want to think this implicated Doug, Hudson’s dad, but losing a house could be motive for murder, even if it had happened fifteen years ago.
The wait for Hudson to return was intense. When he came back in, he gripped his phone in his fist. “Dad’s pissed.”
“About your questions?”
“Yeah, and me seeing the Joneses.” She noted he didn’t say Pop and Nana this time.
“Tell me everything.”
“Mom had always done the bills, so Cricket did once she replaced Mom. But instead of paying the bills, she stole the money for drugs, and that’s how he lost the house.”
“Drugs! I’m so sorry.”
“I would have never guessed. She didn’t seem the type.”
“And he holds her whole family responsible?”
“He says they’re rich. She certainly had a giant diamond on her finger tonight. He asked them for a loan to help save the house. Not a gift, a loan. But since he had kicked Cricket out, they wouldn’t do it.”
Taylor bit her lip. She had liked the Jones family. For a long time, she had liked them. But right now, she hated them.
Hudson turned to her, and his expression changed, softening. “Dad was an alcoholic, Taylor. I wouldn’t have loaned him money, either.”
She pressed her hand to her forehead.
He stepped closer and took her hand in his.
“Cricket didn’t have any kids…” Something occurred to Taylor, something that could be so useful.
“No, just me.”
“That means no one in this town will feel compelled to keep her secrets.”
His eyebrows drew together.
She kissed him first, then explained.
Spending the day at the quilt shop cutting fabric, chewing the fat, and dreaming up projects with customers was not the worst way to pass the time—if there wasn’t a murder. But Roxy had to take her son in to Portland for something school related that went over Taylor’s head. It had to do with film work and potential scholarships, though. It was an overnight trip. She was looking at two full days of sitting on the news about Cricket and the names of the visitors with criminal pasts. She didn’t like it.
Then, shortly after noon, the little bells jingled on the door to Flour Sax and Grandma Quinny strode in, dressed for a day on the hobby farm in sturdy blue jeans that had never seen dirt, a crisp plain shirt probably from Eddie Bower, and a jacket that looked exactly like the one Princess Kate wore in the family photos out on their country estate. “Darling,” she addressed Taylor and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Taylor’s Aunt Susan had come in on Grandma Quinny’s wake.
Taylor’s mood improved immediately. Grandma Quinny knew everyone and everything, and Susan was a gossip. It wasn’t nice to say, but it was sure nice to know right now.
Two ladies with a baby stroller had just completed their purchases. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Taylor came out from behind the register.
“Let me make you a cup of coffee.” She led her family to the little coffee bar and offered them the variety of generic Keurig cups.
“We don’t have all afternoon to chat.” This comment from Grandma Quinny was pointed at Susan.
“What can I do for you?” Taylor held her peace. She’d never get an answer from them before their own questions were dealt with.
“I hear you tried to see your great aunt but that martinet at the desk wouldn’t let you.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Jenny-Sue Meyer. Your great aunt. When word got to me, I almost spit nails.”
“But how did anyone know? Karina and I were alone.”
Aunt Susan laughed. “You told Clay. Clay told Joey. Joey yelled at Karina. Jenny-Sue heard.”
“Um…” Taylor refilled her own cup. The chain of news spreading made sense when put that way. “But how is she my great aunt? And why didn’t I know that?”
“I don’t know why you didn’t know that. She was always at family parties before she had to move to the home.”
Many people were always at Grandma Quinny’s “family parties.” Taylor hadn’t realized they were all literally family.
“Abe Meyer was Jenny-Sue’s second husband. And he was a very good man. Her first husband was Arch Brickell.”
“But Arch is married to your sister, Patty.”
“Yes, Arch and Jenny-Sue divorced.”
“So, she’s not really my aunt.”
“Don’t be fussy, Taylor. Jenny-Sue is family and has been for longer than you’ve been alive, and that woman,” her lips pinched as she said the word, “had no right to keep you from having a nice little visit. Jenny-Sue could use it. She’s been lonely since Abe passed.”
“If I were you, I’d lock that Hudson down. So long as he’s not married, you’re going to have no end of trouble.” Aunt Susan’s soft gentle voice had a harsh tone.
“I don’t expect marrying him will make her nicer to me.”
“No, it won’t.” Grandma Quinny gave Susan a disappointed glance. “But I don’t know what has happened to this town. In Comfort, once you’re family, you’re always family. That Karina Wyandotte needs to settle down. We never used to hold vindictive grudges around here.”
Taylor doubted that. Comfort was a nice town, but no town was that nice. “I bet it was a real trial for the town when Cricket made Doug lose his house.”
Grandma Quinny’s eyes narrowed. “Cricket wasn’t from here.”
“Neither was Pastor Leon.”
“No, and it showed, didn’t it? I know pastors are supposed to be forgiving and see the best in people and all of that, but how he could be dating a woman with a known history of drug abuse is beyond me.”
The door jangled again, and Annie Farkas walked in. She was as casually elegant as ever, this time in slim jeans and a loose linen jacket that hung off her thin shoulders, but with clay-splattered boots on her feet letting out the secret she was a working artist.
Taylor held her breath, but Grandma Quinny had seen her.
Susan greeted Annie with a hug. “How are you hanging in there?”
Annie spotted Taylor, nodded, and went off to the side of the shop with Susan. They were quiet, so if they were sharing heart-felt secrets, Taylor couldn’t hear.
“I didn’t know they knew each other.”
“Even if you count the students at the college, there are only 3,000 souls in this town, Taylor. Everyone knows everybody.”
“And everything about everybody, right?”
Grandma Quinny smiled warmly and a little sadly. “Try not to listen. That’s all I have to say. If you don’t know, then you can’t hold it against anyone. It’s the very best way to keep peace in a small community.”
“Did everyone keep quiet about Cricket’s drug use? I mean, she had a job with the elderly, and she likely had a relationship with Leon’s kids.”
“Her drug problems were a long time ago, and she’d never been arrested. A lot can be swept under a rug if there’s no criminal record.”
The dozens, if not hundreds, of people at the tea party who didn’t have criminal records crossed Taylor’s mind. Sure, narrowing the field of suspects down to two men who had a criminal past might help, but then, any one of them might be harboring secrets worse than Cricket’s.
Then again, Joey said she’d seen that “cute” Jerrod guy with Cricket. That was one coincidence too many. Taylor would find out about him by hook or crook. After all, if Jenny-Sue was her great-aunt, then she and this Jerrod were practically family.
“You tell me next time you want to see Jenny-Sue, okay, love?” Grandma Quinny said. “And I’ll go with you. That Karina wouldn’t dare keep me away from my sister-in-law.” She patted Taylor’s arm gently. “Susan, let’s go.” Her voice rang out, far louder than necessary in the little shop. Susan and Annie came out from their quiet corner.
“Can I help you with anything?” Taylor asked Leon’s widow as the other two left.
“I wanted to
make a photo blanket for the kids,” Annie said. “Pictures of them and their father. But I don’t know how.”
“Sure, no problem.” She led the woman to a shelf where she sold a few novelties like printable fabric. Technically it didn’t match her oldy-timey aesthetic, but none of shops in the quilt guild had complained, and they all carried it.
Annie took a few packets, probably more than she would need, and held them to her chest.
“Is there something else? Fabric for the back maybe?”
It was obvious Annie had something on her mind, and it wasn’t likely the fabric.
“I’ve heard a rumor that worries me a little.” Annie swallowed and her eyes glistened.
“Come this way,” Taylor led her back to the coffee bar and wondered if maybe she should add some sofas. “Let me make up a cup of coffee, or maybe tea?”
Annie shook her head. “You remember I found all the money hidden, right?”
This time Taylor swallowed a little note of emotion.
“I’ve heard he stole this from the folks at the home. The residents.” She shivered, though the day and the room were warm.
Taylor nodded. “I’ve heard that rumor as well.”
Annie passed her hand under her eyes to catch the rogue tears that might fall against her will. “I need to give it back to them, but how will I make it if I do?”
“Sit down, please?”
Annie took one of the metal folding chairs at the class tables.
“I am not going to pretend that I know the answers you need.”
Annie looked away, but she couldn’t have been surprised.
“And you probably already make more than you would if I gave you a job.”
Annie swallowed what was probably a desperate sob.
“But you can have a job here if it would help.”
Annie’s brows crumpled inward. “You don’t have to. As you said, I’d probably do just as well sticking to what I do. The trouble is, I am going to need to do a lot better. And I don’t know how.”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“Yes, my divorce lawyer.”
“You’ve got to talk to her, or him, and see what they can do for you.”
Annie held the printable fabric on her knee, looking at it. “I don’t know why I said I wanted to do this. I can’t afford it.” She set the packets on the table behind her and stood. “I can’t afford much of anything.”
“Have you talked to the school about things like free lunch? I know they can help with some things.”
“No…I haven’t. Thank you.” Annie was far away in her mind, but didn’t move, frozen in her spot.
“There must be something else that brought you here.” As Taylor spoke, she could almost hear her mother’s voice. The warmth, the comfort, but it was coming from herself.
Annie pressed her lips together, then pulled a paper out of her pocket. “I found this. And I really hoped you could help me, since you are… involved.”
Taylor took the folded paper, but didn’t try to read it. “Is it something you don’t want the police to see?”
“Yes, in case it’s nothing. It might be nothing. There’s always a chance. But could you call the number? Could you find out first? Please? If I try, they’ll know me.”
Taylor unfolded the paper. Right there, in black and white feminine handwriting it said, “Leon--Call Jerrod. Make it right.” And it had a phone number.
“Yes, I will. I promise. Do you want me to take it to the police if I need to, or do you want to do that yourself?”
“Please, just do it. I want all of this as far from my kids as possible.”
“Whatever you want, Annie. I’m here for you.”
If the paper had said any other name at all, Taylor wouldn’t have been sure this was about the money and possibly the murder. But this? Call Jerrod and make it right? This might well be what both Leon and Cricket died for.
Chapter Twenty-One
Taylor sent a text to both Clay and Hudson. “Have a number for Jerrod. Will call tonight.” Though she had more than strong feelings for Hudson and appreciated his perspective, she didn’t feel obliged to leave Clay out of an investigation he’d been such help for already.
Clay responded first. “Cool.”
Hudson’s text came while she and Grandpa Ernie were ordering their dinner at Rueben’s diner. “Do you want me to come if he wants to meet? Do you want me to be there when you call?”
“yes and yes.” She smiled at the phone.
“No phones at dinner.” Grandpa Ernie scowled at her.
She didn’t like how little patience she had for him at night. She knew he couldn’t help being cranky. She knew he wasn’t trying to make her life hard on purpose, but as she stared across the table at the man who used to be so different, she wasn’t sure she could be as kind as she needed to be. “Sorry.” She slipped the phone into her purse and did her best to pretend everything was just fine. “Do you know Jenny-Sue Meyer?”
“Jenny-Sue Middlebrecht,” he corrected her. “She was real smart in school.”
“Do you know any of her family?” She paused and then they successfully ordered their soup and sandwiches from Aviva Rueben, waitress, karate expert, and cousin to their murder witness.
“Her husband was no good, so she got a better one.” Grandpa Ernie said it like a threat, like if Taylor had a no-good husband, he’d make sure she got a new one too.
Taylor lifted an eyebrow. That spunk, it was exhausting, but kind of charming in its own way.
She tried to remember how Grandma Quinny had delineated the relationship. This no-good husband was…married to one of Grandma Quinny’s sisters? Patty. He was married to Taylor’s Great Aunt Patty. “Did Jenny-Sue and her no-good husband have any kids?”
He wrapped his spoon on his table. “You don’t know your own cousins?”
“I guess not.”
“That no good husband of hers got himself hitched to a Quinn, so his boys are your problem now. Jerry and Johnny.”
“Jerry, short for Jerrod?”
“That’s right.”
“I think I remember Johnny, but there are always so many people at a Quinn party.”
“When was the last time you went to one of those?” Grandpa Ernie grumped.
Aviva interrupted again with bowls of chicken noodle and their specialty—Rueben sandwiches—split in half.
Grandpa Ernie sipped at his chicken soup, and his face relaxed.
It had been a long time since Taylor had been to a family party. The last one might even have been her college graduation. The Quinn strawberry farm had been crawling with everyone from Comfort—family relationships extending to cousins of cousins and their kith and kin.
“I don’t care how handsome he is, young lady,” Grandpa said, “he’s your cousin, so you can’t marry him.”
Taylor laughed. It came from deep inside her, somewhere past the pain of losing her grandpa slowly, somewhere beyond the loneliness of having both of her parents gone. This was her Grandpa Ernie, who had always made sly jokes, silly comments that you have to catch just right or you’d miss it. Trying to catch you off guard, just to tease.
She had to share her Grandma and Grandpa Quinny with the whole town, but with Belle away all the time, she had her Grandpa Ernie all to herself.
“I dunno, Grandpa,” she said, “I might just give him a call anyway.”
He grumbled and picked up his sandwich. “Don’t make sauerkraut the way they used to.”
“Nothing ever is, is it?”
Aviva brought Taylor the check in the little black vinyl folder. Grandpa Ernie made a pretense of taking it, but Taylor stood firm.
She flipped open the folder ready to stick her debit card in but stopped short. A copy of the receipt was covered in black Sharpie: DON’T CALL JERRY!
“I just want you to do what you need to do.” Hudson sat on the couch, leaning forward so Grandpa Ernie could keep up with the conversation from his recliner.
�
�This thing you’re doing, where you completely and totally support me without trying to tell me what to do is very cool on paper.” Taylor fluttered the two pieces of paper. “I like it much better than, say, telling me what I absolutely cannot do. But…I don’t know what to do. Do I call my so-called cousin Jerry and see how he’s doing and do a little digging to see what he knows about Leon or not?”
“You want your girl calling some other man?” Grandpa Ernie interjected.
“It’s okay. It’s her cousin.” Hudson was casual, comfortable even.
Taylor couldn’t figure out why.
“Not her real cousin.” He glared at his granddaughter. “And it wouldn’t be the first time in this family.”
“Oh, Grandpa!” Taylor swatted at him.
He grinned, clearly teasing, and glad to be included. His mood could tip at the push of a button, though, and she longed to send him to his room. But it was only eight. She didn’t dare.
“Call the diner,” Hudson suggested. “Find out what on earth Aviva meant.”
“But she’s working, probably another hour at least.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “You asked.”
“Okay, I will!” She had to Google the number for the diner, but Aviva’s Aunt Jess answered immediately and passed the phone over.
“Aviva, I trust you.”
“Thanks.” She sounded distracted.
“But I need to know what you meant about not calling Jerry.”
“Aunt Jess told me to write it. She said you’d know what it meant.”
Taylor swallowed her impatience. “Can you put Jess back on the phone?”
The phone switched hands again.
“Why should I not call Jerry?”
“I don’t know what you want from him.” Jess spoke in a voice just barely loud enough to hear. “But I dated him back in the day, and he’s no good.”
“I’m not planning on dating my cousin.”
“He’s your cousin?”
“Never mind.” Taylor very much did not want to get off track.
“Anyway, he’s too old for you, and, frankly, he’s prone to violence. Stay far away from those Brickell men, they’re not good. And really, they are much too old for you.”