Prose & Poison, page 15
part #1 of Cafe Prose Mystery Series
“It’s a no brainer.” I pointed at the ruby swatch in her left hand.
“I was leaning toward that one, too!” a man’s voice spoke.
We turned toward the voice.
“Henry!” Piper squealed, jumping to her feet and running toward her husband who stood in the archway between the entryway and living room. “You’re back early!” she shouted.
Henry pulled Piper close, lifted her from the ground, and greeted her with a kiss. “I wanted to surprise you.” His large smile beamed white against cocoa skin. “Welcome back, Talbot,” he remarked casually without even taking his eyes from Piper.
“Thanks,” I said, all of a sudden feeling like a third wheel. I took my dish to the sink, rinsed my wine glass and then grabbed my purse. I said my goodbyes and hugged Piper. “Looks like you were right about those leaves bringing a surprise,” I said, winking at my best friend in the entire world as she shut the door behind.
My evening suddenly opened up, and I knew right away who I would spend it with — the number one boy in my life.
And as soon as I waltzed through my apartment door, he greeted me with a lick on the cheek and wag of the tail.
I sat down at the foot of the bed and tossed my shoes to the floor. “I missed you too, boy.” Romeo nuzzled his furry little head against my hand. “And tonight is all about you!”
After filling up Romeo’s food dish and pouring a fresh bowl of water, I fed him two peanut butter biscuits and tossed him a new squeaky toy shaped like a duck I’d picked up at Earl’s Shop-N-Save on my bike ride back from Piper’s.
I made myself a hot tea, changed into a silk pink nightgown I just purchased from Castle & Crown that made me feel equal parts elegant and sexy, and then jumped in bed. “This is the life,” I muttered, grabbing And Then There Were None from my nightstand. Tea to my left, book in my hands, Romeo to my right. Just what I needed after the most eventful five days of my life. Peace and quiet.
And in a matter of five seconds, the peace and quiet was shattered with a quick rapping on my door.
“Seriously?” I muttered. I sighed heavily, got out of bed, and wrapped a matching silk robe around my scantily clad body. Who was knocking on my door at ten at night?
I had my answer as soon as I looked into two familiar amber eyes. “Patrick?”
“Can I come in just for a minute?” Patrick asked. He hadn’t changed from the work clothes he’d had on at the police station, and when he spoke, the biting scent of alcohol rolled out.
I nodded as he slipped through my door. I pointed to my small living room and told him to have a seat as I made him a hot cup of coffee.
“This would do you some good.” I passed the mug to him. “Black, if you still take it that way.”
“I do,” he said, glancing around my abode. “Your mom really cleaned this place up.” His lips turning up in the corner. “Remember when we used to sneak up here and …”
“Yes.” I blushed, knowing exactly what he would have said next had I not cut him off. I giggled like I was in high school again. “Mom had no idea.” I slowly brought my tea to my lips, the vanilla-y liquid warming me from the inside out.
“Hmm,” he mumbled. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”
I played with my fingernail beds, memories of our childhood together flooding back. Sneaking above the garage for alone time. Late night meetings at Hidden Pond. Two for one shows at the drive-in followed by late-night dinner at Old Willow Diner. “Sure does.” I sat down in the chair across from Patrick. “Now do you want to tell me why you’re here?”
Patrick locked eyes with mine. “You’re my safe space right now,” he admitted. A dab of pink spread across his neck. “Mom is … well … Mom, Grandfather’s gone, and in just one day my fiancé admitted to dating me for my money.” He took a sip of his coffee and then raised the mug in the air. “Oh, and then there’s the whole accused for murder thing.”
I gently rested my fingertips on Patrick’s hand. “I am so sorry, Patrick. For everything.”
We both sat in silence, staring at one another, the weight of the world seeming heavy on our shoulders. I glanced to my bed, the fluffy white comforter calling my name, and then back to Patrick. “Is there something else?” I hoped he’d say no and get on his way so I could get back to my book.
He nodded. “I just needed to see you. Tell you that this all feels … well … wrong. After I left today, I went to Grandfather’s house.” He swallowed. “To his study. The notepad was there, on the corner of his desk.” He hesitated and scratched a trembling hand at the back of his head. “But something about Grandfather’s house just felt … off.”
I leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
He sat his mug on the Violetta table. “You know how Grandfather kept everything in order?”
“I do.” Harold Ellerton went beyond your typical habits of an anal neat freak. Every book, sock, teabag had its place.
“Well, the door to his bedroom was ajar and a few of his drawers were open slightly.”
I shrugged. “That could have been from your mother choosing his burial attire,” I offered.
“True.” His watery eyes met mine. “I can’t pinpoint it exactly, Talbot, but as I walked through his house tonight, it was like everything was off. Like things were picked up and then set down, slightly askew.” He scrunched his face and shook his head from side to side. “I know that doesn’t make much sense, and I’m sure it’s just today’s events catching up with me.”
Patrick stood to leave. He looked to the overturned Agatha Christie novel on the duvet. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you. I’m sure you wanted an evening to yourself.” Romeo yipped in agreement. “Plus,” Patrick added. “Between Grandfather and my mother, you’ve probably had your fill of my family by now.” His jaw tightened. “Well, most of us, at least.” It didn’t take a genius to realize he spoke of Peter.
“You know I’m here for you, Patrick. Whatever you need.” And I meant it. Patrick and I had too much history together for me to brush him off, ignore his concerns.
“Thanks, Talbot,” he said, gently kissing my cheek. As he pulled back, the familiar brown eyes peered longingly into mine. “How is it possible to get even more beautiful?” He reached a hand toward my face and then leaned his head toward mine.
“Patrick.” I gently grasped his wrist and placed it to his side.
“I … um …” Patrick shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Just everything today …” He took a step backward and turned. “Let’s just forget I was here.”
I nodded, shut the door behind him, crawled into bed, and tossed and turned all night.
Chapter 15
If there was one thing Willow Creek loved, it was small town drama.
The next morning, the entire village was abuzz with the news of Lizzy Peartree’s arrest. Every comfy chair, hard chair, and stool were filled in Cafe Prose. The few small tables and leather sofa in the loft were claimed too. As I hustled between crowded spaces, delivering drinks and baked goods, I heard phrases such as “I can’t believe it” and “she was such a sweet girl” to “I knew there was something off about her” and “what a gold-digging little tart.” I never in a million years wanted to be on the receiving end of Willow Creek’s criticism. Again, that is.
Martha Huxton even scheduled an emergency Drop Write In meeting to discuss the “progress of their works-in-progress.” We all knew, however, that was just code for “catching up on all the goings on in Willow Creek.”
“Will you be joining us?” Martha asked, as she pulled a roll-y cart filled with who knows what behind her.
I chuckled. “A little busy here, Martha!” I said, juggling three different orders. “But I promise I’ll join at some point.”
She peered at me over her red glasses. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Talbot!” Martha called from across the crowded cafe and then added. “Can I have my usual?”
I looked to the tray in my hands, mugs of coffee, tea and baked goodies teetering on the edge. “Just a sec!” I yelled. I danced from one table to the next, dropping off orders and taking new ones.
“Talbot! Do you have those drinks?” Amanda called from the loft.
“Shoot,” I mouthed to her. I’d completely forgotten Dr. Randy Fuller and his new assistant grabbed the last couch up there a few minutes ago. “I forget their order,” I admitted to Amanda. “Darn you, Piper,” I whispered to myself. This was not the best day for Piper to take off, even if she needed time to catch up with Henry.
Amanda reappeared a few seconds later. “A large mocha and medium white chocolate latte.”
“Got it,” I chirped, turning toward the espresso machine. I was lost in mocha-making madness when a familiar voice came from the other side of the bar.
“Hello, dah-ling,” Aunt Tilly spoke dramatically. “I’m here to help.”
I ran around the bar and hugged her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I looked to the door. “Where’s Mom?” I asked.
Aunt Tilly frowned. “She wasn’t sure if news had gotten out yet about,” she paused and leaned in, her scarf rubbing the side of my face, “the money.”
I unwound the frilly scarf from Aunt Tilly’s neck and placed it on a stool. “I get it,” I said. “Things do have a way of getting around fast in this town.”
Suddenly, Amanda reappeared above. “Two scones!” She called, adding two more items to the coroner’s order.
Aunt Tilly grabbed a bright orange apron from a hook next to the mug shelf and tied it around her flowery dress. “You’re living back home and I never see my favorite niece!” she exclaimed, kissing my forehead.
“Ha!” I dumped flavored syrups into the mug. “It’s been two days since I saw you, Aunt Tilly,” teased.
She bumped my hip with hers. “And has it ever been eventful for you.” She twirled behind me and grabbed two scones from the pastry case, slipped them in the microwave, and poured the milk in the frothing mug.
“How do you always know what to do?” I asked.
Aunt Tilly looked crossly at me. “I was a Broadway actress in the nineties, dear. Do you think I never worked in a coffee shop?” She slid the warm scones on a plate, grabbed the two hot drinks I’d just finished, and ran them to Amanda upstairs.
Madame Sarvey waltzed into Café Prose next and in a grand swooping gesture, tapped the tight gray bun atop her head. She loudly cleared her throat, and the buzzing and gossiping of the entire shop came to a halt. “Twenty years ago,” she began as everyone listened intently. Madame Sarvey continued. “Little Lizzy Peartree danced the closing number in my first recital.” She tsked, tsked the air between her teeth. “What a waste of those perfect long limbs.”
“Well, it was about time life caught up with her,” Martha snarked next, unloading from her roll-y bag the newest Mark Estes mystery novel. “Privileged little brat, if you ask me,” she muttered under her breath and then winked at Madame Sarvey. In her typical, loud fashion everyone in the village hated and loved, Martha added, “I bet her skin will glow in orange.”
A few patrons chuckled at her comments.
“Martha!” Madame Sarvey exclaimed, placing a waifish hand to her chest. “That’s a dastardly thing to say.”
Martha put a finger in the air. “But true.”
Madame Sarvey smirked. “Touché, my dear! Touché!”
“Talbot!” Martha Buxton yelled, attention now on me. I gulped. Great. “I heard you had quite a hand in the investigation. Give us the details!” she demanded, her eyes growing wide.
“Yeses.” And “Tell us!” concurred throughout the cafe as everyone waited in quiet anticipation.
“Well …” I began. “I, um.” At this point the patrons upstairs leaned against the loft handrail, hanging on my every word. “Well, it um…” I fumbled with my words, hating being in the limelight.
“Go on, dear!” Martha spoke firmly. “We all want to know.”
I cleared my throat. “It … uhrr … started with finding Harold’s planner, which was the, um, the first thing.” I stopped, and looked toward my aunt for a save.
She swooped in and placed an arm around me. “The details will come out sooner rather than later, everyone. So why don’t you all get back to your coffees and pastries? It’s been a long week for my niece.”
A few patrons groaned in disappointment and the rest went back to their nattering as usual. “Thank you, Aunt Tilly. I forgot how intense this town could be.”
She placed a curved finger under my chin and tilted my head up, surely inspecting the moon-shaped bags under my eyes. “I’m calling Piper,” she decided. “She has had plenty of time to reunite with Henry.” She untied the apron from my back and spun me toward her. “You, my dear, need some rest.”
“But the cafe,” I began to protest.
“No.” Aunt Tilly shooed me away with the back of her hand. “It’s settling down, and Piper will be here any minute.”
I planted a peck on Aunt Tilly’s cheek. “Thank you.”
I grabbed my coat and left the cafe. Just as I threw a leg over my bicycle, Martha stopped me mid leg-lift. I stumbled to the side and fell, shoulder crashing first, into the brick storefront. A few patrons in Cafe Prose looked at me through the window as I pushed the bike away from my head. “Talbot.” Martha stood there, staring at me as I fumbled with the bicycle.
“Thanks for the help,” I muttered. I sighed, picked myself up, and put on a smile as Mom’s voice chirped in my head, “be nice to your elders”.
I looked at Martha. “Yes?”
“Look, dear.” Martha placed a hand on my forearm. “I’m sorry to put you on the spot earlier.”
“That’s okay, Martha,” I stated.
She leaned in. “Between you and me, I always knew Lizzy had it out for you. Always in your shadow,” she nudged my shoulder. “If you know what I mean?”
I nodded, thinking of Patrick’s visit last night, and Lizzy’s words at the police department yesterday. “I think I get it.” I grabbed the handles of my bike to leave, but pivoted back toward Mrs. Huxton. “Martha?”
“Yes?” Martha perked up, as if I was about to give her a hot piece of Willow Creek gossip.
“At the funeral, I overheard you tell Madame Sarvey something about Harold’s will being changed for a woman?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“How did you know about that?” I asked.
She leaned in closer, eager to share. “Well, I put a few things together. First, at BINGO at the firehall the beginning of last week, Harold mentioned something to Eloise Pepper about a meeting-,”
“With Peter?” I interrupted.
“Oh no, dear.” She flicked her thick wrist. “Peter was already in town at this point and they were continuously meeting about the estate, everyone knew that.” She scrunched her face, trying to collect her memories. “If I remember correctly, Eloise said Harold called it a ‘business meeting’ with a woman, and then he apparently muttered something about the outcome of the meeting changing things.” She sniffed and lifted her head. “Now, I’m not one to speculate.”
I shot Martha a look that she countered by putting her hands up in surrender. “Well, maybe I am one to speculate. But I assumed that the ‘meeting’ was code for a little rendezvous of sorts.”
Martha would jump to that conclusion.
“Why do you ask?” she inquired.
I hopped on my bike. “No reason.” I guess the news of my mother hadn’t spread to the village know-it-all, and I prayed to God it wouldn’t any time soon.
I put Martha’s words out of my head. There was only one thing I needed to think about right now -- getting some sleep. Forty-five minutes later, after a hot bath and with Romeo snuggled in the bend behind my knees, I did just that.
* * *
I woke up with a start at eight o’clock that night to a knock on my door. “Talbot?” my mother asked from the other side.
“Yeah.” My voice came out raspy from sleep. I slid into my slippers and shuffled my feet to the door, letting Mom in.
“I’m sorry, dear. You’ve been sleeping all day and I wanted to see if you’d like a bite?” She placed a hand to the pillow marks across my face. In her other hand she balanced a plate of freshly-baked zucchini bread slices with butter melting in their centers.
I yawned, my stomach moaning below. “I could use some food.” I took the bread from her hands and bit into the first slice. “Amazing, Mom!”
“Well, I haven’t been able to sleep much, so I’ve been baking away.”
I smiled. “How is that any different than usual?”
“Good point,” she quipped.
“And think of how much better you’ll cook with a new oven.” I playfully nudged her shoulder.
Mom looked to the floor. “I don’t want to think about the money right now.”
“Sorry,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “So…” I started cheerily. “I talked to Martha Huxton this morning, and it doesn’t seem like your big news has gotten out.”
Mom slumped her shoulders in relief, as if I’d just lifted twenty pounds from them. “Well, that certainly makes me happy.”
“Martha had a feeling the will was changed because of a mysterious woman.”
Mom’s eyes grew wide and then she placed her head in her hands. “Can you imagine when she finds out I was the woman?” she groaned. “Goodness, who knows what rumors will circulate after that.” Mom took a bite of the bread herself. “Probably think I was Harold’s young lover.” Before swallowing the last bite, Mom shoved some more bread into her mouth. “I’m shhuur that’s what Charlotte tthhinks,” she said through muffles.
“Mom.” I moved the bread away before she stress-ate herself into choking. “The way everything gets around this village, anyone with half a brain knows how much you did for Harold and that your relationship was one of a father-daughter type, not one of two lovers.” I shuddered as soon as the word lovers escaped my mouth.
Mom swallowed hard. “I guess so, Talbot.” She pressed her lips together. “Well, I’d rather it all be out sooner rather than later, or I’ll drive myself mad thinking about how everyone will react.” She fiddled with her hands. “There’re just too many secrets in this town.”
