by Tess Rothery
She turned sheepishly. One of the firefighters pointed to the crowd under the tree. She walked toward him slowly, not wanting to give up so easily. “No one leaves till the Sheriff says so.”
She didn’t say anything but went back where she was told, skirting the edge of the crowd. Once there, she texted Hudson and begged him to see if the little RV was parked by the edge of the woods. He sent a thumbs up and then called.
“Did you hear about the fire?” he asked.
“I’m here right now. I think the guy in the Minnie Winnie did it, and I think he killed Cricket and Leon too.”
“Taylor, this isn’t safe.”
“I know. Don’t get out of the truck. Just go see if it’s there, and if it is, text me. I already sent the info to Reg, and I’m dying to talk to the sheriff.”
“Got it. I’ll send pics if I can.”
She hung up and looked for a way to escape again, but from across the crowd her grandmother spotted her and nodded toward the Volvo. Taylor did as she was told and collected the blankets and the coats.
In a matter of minutes, Hudson sent his text. The Minnie Winnie was there. As she headed back into the parking lot to see if she could show it to the sheriff, two more SUV’s with the Yamhill County Sheriff’s Department logo emblazoned on them rolled up.
She took a deep breath and trudged forward anyway.
The door of one Chevy flew open and the tall, heroic Reg in his khaki uniform hustled to her. “I’ve got a man headed to the location you gave us. This is serious. Are you sure you’re not insane?” Though his words could have been some kind of flirty joke, his face made it clear he was dead serious.
“I’m not crazy. I swear.” She held her phone in her grip, not sure if she should show the pic or not. “I’ve tried to keep you guys informed of anything I found. And I was only doing this to protect my sister’s friend.”
“Come with me.” He didn’t drag her off, but he was oozing anger and strength, and she followed him as though she were under arrest.
Reg exchanged a word or two with his boss, who looked Taylor up and down, nodding.
He didn’t say a word to her.
Her heart seethed.
Surely, he’d at least ask her how she had learned about the guy.
She’d done all of this work.
She’d gotten them the clues. Surely, they weren’t going to go off and arrest Jerrod Brickell without even talking to her first?
She stepped forward. “Excuse me.”
“What?” the head man, the sheriff himself, snapped. He was short and stocky like a competitive weightlifter. A vein on his forehead looked like it was ready to burst.
“I…”
“Got it, sir.” One of the young firefighters came running up with a shard of green glass in his gloved hand. “Amateur job. Desperate guy.”
The sheriff pointed to another man, and the young firefighter nodded and took his prize over there.
The sheriff turned to Taylor again. Though he had to look up ever so slightly to make eye contact, it was still clear he was the one in charge. “You did this.”
“No! I know who did it. That’s what I was trying to say.”
“If you hadn’t interfered, the Rueben girl would have been safe with her aunt where we put her, and we would have been able to arrest the murderer without anyone else getting hurt.”
“But! But….” She swallowed and her eyes burned with smoke and tears, fear and confusion.
“But nothing, young lady. I have a lifetime of respect for your father, may he rest in peace, but if you ever try this bullshit again, I’ll lock you up, do you understand?”
“But I helped! No one else got hurt. If…”
He pointed at the crowd of elderly people, some sitting on their walkers, some in wheelchairs, some on the benches, all shivering. “This building will have to be condemned. You might not think we’re fast enough at our job, but by God, we do it right.” He sniffed, and for a moment, Taylor wondered if he was about to start crying.
But he didn’t. He turned and left.
She shivered.
She was sure she had helped. And Dayton had begged her to. And this couldn’t actually be her fault, could it?
Chapter Twenty-Three
The only man I respect more than the sheriff in this world is my father.” Reg stood in the middle of Flour Sax Quilt Shop, his black ball cap with the logo of the county sheriff’s department literally in hand.
She had let him in at five-thirty in the morning, though neither of them had any reason to be there that early. It had been a long night, and she hadn’t slept. Dread, confusion, regret, and that unwelcome fear she had thought she was getting past took turns torturing her through the hours. Had her attempt to help Dayton really made all of those grandparents homeless? Surely not.
With a greater strength of will than she thought possible, she had not shoved her dresser in front of her door in the night, but dread soaked her like a winter storm. Long before dawn, Taylor had been up, pacing up and down the stairs, touching her grandfather’s door, then Belle’s, convinced her best intentions had brought danger to those she had tried hardest to keep safe.
When she could bear it no more, she went to the shop. She knew Clay was upstairs or ought to have been. There was some comfort in that. But, in reality, she longed to drive to town where she could walk into a twenty-four-hour Walmart and fill a cart with things. Just so many things. Instead, she sorted and organized the things she had to sell and told herself it was almost the same.
When Reg knocked on the front door, she hadn’t had any panic left, but opened it automatically, letting him into the sanctuary, partly thinking he might need it as well.
“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will deny it.” Reg continued his halting explanations. “But the sheriff was working his case up against the widow—Annie. In most cases, a murder is done by a close relative, and he didn’t like Annie’s alibi.” He stared at Taylor, but she didn’t respond. “Annie had a great motive. The sheriff had a stack of notes from your phone calls, but they weren’t considered legit tips.”
“Do you think it was my fault?” Taylor shoved her hands in the pockets of her khakis so he couldn’t see her hands shake.
“That the killer was caught? I wouldn’t call it a fault.”
Taylor stared at the smiling face of her friend. His eyes were sad and tired and the smile was weak, meant to comfort her, but it didn’t register as anything, really. “The bomb.” The two words fell from her like bricks.
“No one was hurt. Don’t feel guilty about that.” Reg stood so still, not even his jaw twitched. He was a good man. Someone would be really lucky to marry him.
“But all those residents.”
“They’ll be okay. They all have beds for tonight anyway. They’ll get their stuff out, and the owner will make sure they have somewhere to go.”
“But why is the whole place condemned? It was just the kitchen, wasn’t it?”
“Someone had turned the gas on. The kitchen exploded when he tossed the firebomb in there. But he hit a couple of apartments first.”
“So, he was out in the dusky evening, tossing bombs while we were all just…there? And while the firemen were there?”
“It looks like it, but we’ll get the whole story eventually.” Reg cleared his throat and moved one foot slightly.
Taylor registered it and knew that it meant he wanted to go now, but she couldn’t let him. Not yet. “But he wouldn’t have done that if it hadn’t been for me.”
Reg shook his head. “He was after the witness. He’d been coming to see his mom every day after the murder so that he wouldn’t look suspicious, and one day he spotted the girl.”
“But Dayton never left Marva’s place. Even I couldn’t find her for the longest time.”
“He claims he saw her through the window.”
“I can’t believe he’s confessed already. That doesn’t seem…” Taylor stared at the slipper chair in the corner
of the room. Somehow she thought she ought to sit in it, but the shock was too fresh still.
“I think he’s after a mental illness plea, but we’ll do our best to keep him from getting it.”
“Why did he do it? Was it because of his mom’s money?”
Reg’s head turned a slight angle, as though he were looking for the way out. “He rambled all night long. Me and another guy were there with him, and I’m spent. I don’t know what part of his ten-hour confession was true and what was invented. But he said he did it to keep kids off drugs, but Farkas wasn’t involved in selling drugs, so that couldn’t have been it. He also said he did it because Farkas was corrupting his mother. That seems more likely. And, yeah, I expect it was because of the money. It’s almost always because of the money.”
“How did you know I’d be here?” Taylor yawned. She pressed the ball of her hand to her head.
He shook his head. “I was headed towards Café Olé. I’m beat, but I don’t get to go home for a while. Saw your light on and wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Thank you.”
“You got a murderer off the street. Here’s hoping that with some time and space the boss will see it that way. You deserve our gratitude. But in the meantime…”
“Stay out of police investigations?” She rested her hand on the register counter. Sitting or even lying down again suddenly seemed like the only good idea.
“Yes, please. For your own good.”
She nodded slowly. “Let me just say this: if I ever see a murder again, I’m running far and fast from it, okay?”
He shoved his hat back on his head. “Thanks.”
She considered going home; going to bed. Not opening for the day. The whole town would be upended with the explosion and the fire. She was sure no would be out shopping for fabric.
But she underestimated the need for local gossip. Her shop was full all day.
Newly homeless residents of Bible Creek Care Home made their way up one side of Main Street, visiting quilt shops, the cheese factory outlet, and the rest of the stores, and down the other side for antiques and a hearty meal at the diner. Both Clay and Roxy were on hand all day to keep up with the work.
Sissy stopped by to say that Dayton had moved permanently in with the family. She said Dayton had been offered a scholarship at the College of Art and Craft she’d been dreaming of attending as well, and Sissy would make sure she took it, no matter what Dayton’s parents said. Cooper had one more year of high school—having his two best friends both graduate early had been hard on him, but she thought having Dayton around all summer would help.
Taylor doubted having a live-in teenage girl would be the help that Sissy thought she’d be, but she held her tongue.
She called Grandma Quinny just to check in, but Grandpa Quinny said she was resting.
Eventually the end of the day came, but it offered no respite from her overwhelming doubts and no comfort from the fear that getting involved had made everything worse.
As she turned the lock of the front door, she let out a sigh that shifted slightly to a sob.
“Buck up, my friend,” Clay said, his voice soft and lazy. “Let me take you out.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do, and I’ve planned it all. You and me. That banker fellow you love so much and his date. Dinner at an English pub. I suggested it, but the banker says it’s good.”
“You planned this already?” Her heart softened toward the man who had worked so hard all day in her little shop.
“I did, but before you thank me, it’s dinner and a show.”
“What’s playing?”
“Hudson and Karina.”
Taylor stared blankly.
“Joey told me that Karina told her that she had a date with Hudson, tonight, at said pub. I thought you’d enjoy watching the fruits of your efforts.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I am most certainly not. I know you. You would hate to miss this.”
“But what about Joey? Aren’t you seeing her?”
“Oh, she’ll be there.”
“But…”
“I suspect you won’t be odd man out for long. Dinner with crazy Karina Wyandotte can’t last long. But hustle, Hudson’s picking her up at eight, and we want to get there so we can be inconspicuous in a back booth before they arrive.”
Taylor looked down at the rumpled khakis and pathetic pastel polo. “I’ll do my best.”
Joey Burke was every bit the dimpled, dark haired beauty she’d seemed. And funny and kind too. Taylor liked her and not begrudgingly. She would happily let this girl take Clay off her hands.
John Hancock’s Tatiaaaaana on the other hand…She’d come back from New York, having successfully defended her thesis, so she was smart. And she did have a sexy Eastern European accent. But otherwise she had the indifferent mousy hair and unfussy clothes of any math genius. Taylor didn’t hate her, but her feelings were a bit ruffled. Even when John had wanted a romance with her, he hadn’t looked at her the way he looked at Tatiaaaaana.
Tatiana.
If this romance was going to last, Taylor was going to have to practice saying her name non-sarcastically, even when just saying it in her head.
Taylor might have been the spare singleton in the crowd, but at least she had the best seat to watch Karina and Hudson on the date he’d been roped into. She hoped for some excitement from this. With Karina’s short fuse and malicious nature, things might get explosive.
Hudson winked at her from across the room. He had on a fresh plaid shirt—not even flannel. His thick, dark hair looked like he had tousled it purposefully, and his face hadn’t been shaved in a day or two. A couple other women in the bar also noticed him, and Taylor felt little pin pricks of pride. He may be waiting for another woman, but technically…
“He’s really been great. I am grateful, honest. If I can fit a cheese reference in here, I could use grate one more time.” Joey blushed.
Clay laughed.
Taylor turned her attention back to the couple sitting across from her.
“But Klamath Falls is so far away.” Clay gave the pretty chef a big puppy eye look.
Joey’s eyes were just as big and sad. “I know, but what else can I do? My kitchen exploded. He owns a few of these places, and the one in Klamath Falls has an opening. As soon as I find something better….”
“You won’t be working in Comfort.” Clay managed to make it sound like a pun, like Klamath Falls would be a particularly uncomfortable place to live.
“Probably not, but there are plenty of great restaurants around here….” She glanced at John Hancock who had been whispering to his date.
He pulled his eyes away from his beloved reluctantly. “I’d love to get my brother to take you on. I can ask anyway.”
Joey shook her head. “That’s a nice thought, but my plans are all made. Anyway, Klamath Falls is beautiful. I love it down there. You’ll all have to come see me sometime.”
Clay grabbed her hand. “Absolutely.”
But Taylor knew the truth. Clay wouldn’t take a four-hour drive to see a girl he’d just started dating. It wasn’t his style. In fact, he seemed to be looking just over Joey’s shoulder already, to the bar where three ladies in their twenties seemed to be having a girls' night out.
Taylor watched them too. They laughed, tossed their long thick hair, and kept glancing at Hudson, sitting alone at his table.
The food arrived for Taylor and her friends before Karina arrived.
And then more drinks.
Then an offer of dessert.
Still, Hudson sat alone. Maybe standing him up, trying to humiliate him, had been Karina’s plan all along.
“Go ahead.” John Hancock nudged her gently. “You haven’t heard a word any of us has said for the last half an hour.”
“Sorry.” Taylor’s face heated up.
“If you don’t go get him,” Clay said, “one of those kids will.”
The ladies
from the bar had moved to the table next to Hudson. They sat so close to him in their tight, sleeveless tops, laughing much louder now that they’d had plenty to drink, their glances his way much more direct.
Taylor’d been watching him, laughing, and texting him all evening.
But her friends were right. It was time to go to him. He may have been waiting for his ex, Karina Wyandotte, but he was there for her sake.
The restaurant was crowded, chairs and tables close together. She had to push and twist and fight her way to him.
As though he couldn’t wait, he stood and reached for her, grabbing her as soon as she was close enough.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, warmly, and with love. The pub and the crowd, the friends and the girls all fell away.
Then he let her go and looked down at her. “This couldn’t have been better.”
“We saved you a seat.” Taylor laced her fingers through his and took him to the group.
As she sat, her phone pinged a text. She glanced at it, wondering if it was an update from Dayton or maybe Reg.
A number she didn’t recognize had sent a text. “You owe me. You owe me big.” She shivered and showed it to Hudson.
He laughed. “That’s Karina’s number. I wonder how she’ll make you pay for this?”
Another text came through while she pondered her fate. This one from her sister. “Levi’s mom came and got him. She’s the worst.”
Taylor sent her sister a heart and sent up a prayer of thanks for Levi’s mom. Funny, it was the first time she’d prayed as she investigated the murder of a pastor.
Her mind wandered as she sat next to Hudson on the long bench seat in their inglenook of a booth. Leon Farkas had no integrity. He was rotten, just like Cricket and Jerry and probably half of the people in this bar. But his lack of integrity had cost him his life.
Her mom had said something about that in one of her videos. How the whole project was only as good as the materials it was made out of.
Clay sat across from her, laughing at something Tatiana had said, one arm around Joey, but also glancing at the bar, where a new set of ladies were ordering drinks and laughing.