Strangulation & Strawberry Cake Read online

  "Or what? He’ll go to jail?" Uncle Sid shook his head. "I can't risk that. I can't. He's my son! My only son!"

  "You clearly love him a lot,” Rachel said.

  "He's everything to me.” Uncle Sid sighed. "My wife…she left me when Tyler was just a kid. She was married again within a year and had another son. Poor Tyler, she completely cut him out of her life after that. It was like she just didn't care anymore. I was the one who raised him. I tried to be both mother and father to him."

  "You did a good job,” Rachel said. "He seems well adjusted."

  Uncle Sid snorted. "You're only saying that to make me feel better."

  "No. I mean it. He's immature in a lot of ways but I like Tyler. I feel like there's a basic decency about him,” Rachel said. "I truly do."

  "He's such a good kid,” Uncle Sid said. "So good hearted. He didn't do so well academically, but he's made of the right stuff. You should ask his friends. They all rave about him. I never managed to capture hearts the way he does, even if my grades were all A's."

  Rachel nodded.

  Uncle Sid sighed then sat up. "But the thing is... DNA is DNA. If the police are right and those were Tyler's earphones…I may not be able to save him."

  "Was he really with you that day?" Rachel asked.

  "Absolutely,” Uncle Sid said. "I know he hasn't done it. Someone stole those earphones and planted them at the crime scene. I mean, why would Tyler be stupid enough to leave them behind if he did do it? Besides, what possible motive would Tyler even have to kill Johnny Hayes?"

  "Well, who do you suspect, if it wasn't Tyler?" Rachel asked.

  Uncle Sid shook his head. "That's the problem, isn't it? If it isn't Tyler, it's still someone in the family. And that's unthinkable, too."

  Hesitantly, Rachel said, "Uncle Jordan has a temper... I heard he tried to kill Scott's mother when they fought once."

  "Oh, that." Uncle Sid nodded. "Yeah. I guess Jordan is just used to beating all of us up since he was a child. He just had a nasty temper and Mama never stopped him."

  "Grandma was OK with him beating his sisters?"

  Uncle Sid nodded. "Paris knew how to escape, so Scott's mom always got the worst of his tempers, but Jordan would never kill anyone. I mean, he'd slap us around. Even that day — the day he allegedly tried to ‘kill’ Scott's mom. I don't think he would have done anything really. He just…saw red."

  "He tried to choke her."

  "True." Uncle Sid sighed. "Maybe I'm so used to thinking of him as a little kid, I don't realize that grown ups don't behave that way. Jordan just never grew out of his temper tantrums. But murder? I don't know about that.”

  "Did he beat you up a lot, too, as a kid?" Rachel asked.

  Uncle Sid grinned from ear to ear. "He tried, but I always got him back. I'd rig up a booby trap and make him regret it. I loved setting those up. One time I rigged up a bucket of ink over his door — not water, ink — and splashed him right before Sunday school! He couldn't get it all off no matter how much he scrubbed, and he had to sit through it with blue ears. Still brings a tear to my eye when I think about it." He clarified, “A tear of joy!”

  "He smokes, right?" Rachel asked.

  "Hmm?" Uncle Sid looked up. "Yes. Used to anyway. I don't think he smokes anymore, except maybe when he's stressed out. Why?"

  "I found a lighter near my room,” Rachel said. “It was gold. Do you think it belongs to him? It had initials on it. PM or BM."

  "PM. Peter Mutton. My father.” Uncle Sid smiled. "Yes. That's Jordan's lighter now. Dad left it to him after he died."

  "Ah. Thanks." Rachel smiled. She felt suddenly triumphant. So it was Uncle Jordan's lighter that they had found near the fusebox! Why hadn't Captain Walter paid more attention to it? Perhaps because there were no fingerprints or convenient DNA on it? Well, she had to make sure someone paid attention. Meanwhile, she had a few more questions to ask Uncle Sid.

  "Did you know Johnny Hayes well?" Rachel asked.

  "Me?" Uncle Sid shrugged. "Well, he was my accountant, as well. To be honest, I never pay attention to money. I get a good salary from the university and, as you know, the family isn't doing badly. I don't have too many needs, and if there are additional expenses, Mama's always willing to help. I always left finance up to her and Paris. They're the number crunchers of the family. I'm happier with my textbooks."

  "Aunt Paris helps Grandma Mallory with the finances?” Rachel was surprised. Aunt Paris hadn't mentioned this before.

  "Oh, of course. She was a CEO, you know. Now that she's retired, Mama leans on her quite a bit for the family finances. Jordan's still busy with his company and I'm useless with numbers."

  "Oh,” Rachel said. Funny that Aunt Paris had never mentioned this. "So she must have talked to Johnny regularly?"

  "Not if she could avoid it." Uncle Sid sighed. "See, Paris has a history with Johnny Hayes. A pretty bad one."

  "She does?" Aunt Paris had never mentioned that either!

  "Oh, yes. When she was in her early twenties, Paris wanted to run off to Europe. She was saving money to do so. Johnny Hayes told my mother what she was doing and all her plans went poof."

  "Oh, yes. Aunt Paris was telling me about that." Rachel nodded. "She said it was too bad she didn't get to see London and Rome."

  "London and Rome?" Uncle Sid blinked. "Well, yes, I suppose she was upset about that, But then, she was more upset about her broken engagement."

  "What?!” Rachel shot up straight. "Broken engagement?"

  Uncle Sid nodded. "See, Paris had fallen in love with some European painter. Diego or some such name. That's why she was saving up money. To go start a new life with him. Mama put a stop to that immediately. Diego broke up with Paris when she couldn’t go to him. Poor girl was so heartbroken. It changed her life, you know. She's always been a hippie type, but after her engagement got broken, she became obsessed with climbing the corporate ladder. She even ended up marrying a man Mama approved of. But it didn't turn out well. I don't think they were compatible. Somewhere in her heart, I think Paris always wondered what would have happened if she and Diego would have married."

  Rachel stared at him. "What do you think would have happened?"

  "Me? I think she would have been happy. Maybe she would have been a lot poorer, but she would have been herself." Uncle Sid let out a deep breath. "Then again, who's to say? I suppose Mama was right to keep Paris back."

  "Didn't Paris get angry at her?" Rachel asked.

  "Not Paris." Uncle Sid shook his head. "She was furious at Johnny Hayes for ratting her out, but she knows Mama is a force of nature. Once she found out, there was nothing to do."

  Rachel nodded, understanding perfectly. That weird double standard again, as though Grandma's actions were something separate from Grandma herself.

  But the rest of what Uncle Sid had told her seemed to clang in Rachel's mind. Why had Aunt Paris deliberately left out any mention of her ex-lover? One answer came to mind — she didn't want Rachel thinking she had any motive to kill Johnny Hayes.

  Still, it made little sense. After all, surely Aunt Paris would not randomly kill Johnny so many years later. Yes, she might have had her heart broken, but it was more than three decades in the past. Why kill him now because of it? But if she hadn't killed him, why hide her motive?

  The answer eluded Rachel, no matter how hard she tried to come up with it.

  *****

  Chapter 14

  Hope Is A Bird

  Rachel tossed and turned that night, her mind ablaze with questions. She'd only been staying in the mansion one day and, already, she felt claustrophobic. The grandeur that had made her jaw drop when she’d first arrived was now an empty husk made only to keep her caged. Her heart longed for home — her very own home — where she had her own kitchen and Scooter to keep her company. Humble as it was, she vastly preferred it to this place, with its secrets and its misery.

  "I'd rather live in a hut and be happy than in a mansion and be miserable,” she muttered
to herself. For it seemed to her that each and every person in this family, in their own way, was perfectly miserable. And, try as she might, Rachel couldn't help but blame one central figure: Grandma Mallory.

  Aunt Bethany was miserable because her mother-in-law treated her badly. Aunt Paris had a broken engagement and possibly a permanently broken heart because her mother had interfered with her affairs. Uncle Jordan had a bad temper and a sense of entitlement because his mother had spoiled him. Scott's mother, Florence, well, she had escaped from her mother's control but tragedy had followed her anyway. As for Uncle Sid, what kind of grown man left his finances in his 90 year old mother's control? He hadn't really called attention to it, but Rachel was sure that it must have hurt him to ask his mother for help when he needed money, instead of being able to manage on his own. Finally, there was Tyler — the next generation. Here, her thoughts trailed away.

  There was a knock on her door. Rachel looked at the clock — half past midnight. She was fairly sure she knew who it was. She just wasn't sure she wanted to let him in. She drew the quilt over her head. In all that had happened that day, Rachel had almost — not quite but almost — forgotten about her unreciprocated ‘I love you’. Now, the thought of facing Scott again melted her insides with embarrassment. She couldn't possibly look him in the eye.

  There was another knock and then she heard Scott whisper her name. "Let me in, Rachel. Please."

  Sighing, she sat up and called out, "It's open."

  Scott shut the door behind him and leaned against it. He didn't seem to want to make eye contact either. She'd tried to find him all day after her conversation with Uncle Sid, but Scott had vanished into thin air. Either that or he'd been purposely avoiding her. Her stomach sank a little at the thought.

  "We need to talk,” Scott said finally.

  Her stomach sank some more. Those words couldn't possibly be followed by anything good. We need to talk, in Rachel's experience, meant a break-up was imminent. She couldn't handle that right now. And she didn't think Scott could, either.

  Composing herself, Rachel sat up straight. "Alright,” she said. "We need to talk. But does it have to be now?"

  Scott squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. "About last night—“

  "Scott,” Rachel said gently, “whatever it is, surely it can wait? Two more days and I'll be out of this house. Then, when we're both back in Swaddle, both back to our normal life, maybe then we can talk."

  Scott stared at her, his eyes speaking volumes. Rachel felt a rush of love for him all over again. Even if he didn't love her, even if he wanted to take a step back from their relationship, she didn't care. She loved him. And, right now, she could tell he was in pain. He'd tried to hide it, but his Grandma's constant barrage of mean words had gotten to him. She held out her arms and, with a sigh of relief, Scott tumbled into them. He hugged her tight, squeezing her against him till she ached.

  "It's going to be alright,” she said. "We'll figure it out. One step at a time. Right now the most important thing is your family, right? Johnny Hayes. We need to find out who killed him and why."

  "I didn't think you'd understand,” Scott said, his voice a mumble. "I knew you'd be angry. I didn't think I could bear to face you after yesterday.”

  "Let's not talk about that,” Rachel said, her shoulders stiffening.

  "Rach—“

  "You're not ready to say it back just yet. Maybe you never will be. That's fine. And, yes, that's something we need to talk about. But not right now."

  "You're hurting because of it,” Scott replied, his voice straining with agony.

  Notably, he didn't deny what she'd just said. At that moment, the last tiny spark of hope that had been bravely blazing on inside her heart was suddenly extinguished, leaving behind darkness and empty space. Scott didn't love her. He liked her, he had happily dated her, but he didn't love her. And possibly, very possibly, would break up with her as soon as this episode ended. Part of Rachel wanted to burst into tears and pound at his chest with her fists. But another part of her, the part of her that was loyal to Scott despite everything, the part that loved him as a friend as well as a man, told her to stay in control.

  Her heart aching, she pushed away from him and said with a smile, "Two heads are better than one, Scott. We're both being terrible detectives right now. How about we swap thoughts on the murder?”

  His eyes were locked onto hers and he opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemingly changed his mind. Flopping onto the bed, he pulled her down until she was on his lap.

  "Ok,” he said. "Spill the beans. What do you know?"

  Rachel obliged, telling him all the conversations she'd had so far. He listened carefully, occasionally letting out a low whistle or a muted exclamation.

  "So?" she asked at the end of it. "What do you think?"

  "What do I think? You're brilliant. That's what I think. Want to quit being a baker and start being a deputy?"

  Rachel smiled. "I'll keep it as a back up career."

  "I'm serious, Rachel. This is good work."

  "That doesn't matter. The point is — who did it? So far, everyone's a suspect."

  Scott nodded. "I feel that way, too."

  "So, what have the police found out?" Rachel asked. "Did you get a chance to talk to Captain Walter?"

  "I did,” he said. He hesitated. "You know I'd never give you information if I were the acting detective on a case, right?"

  "Right,” Rachel said. "But this is gossip, not classified information. If Captain Walter broke the rules to tell you, surely you can tell me."

  "It's a little different when a policeman talks to another officer,” Scott said.

  "Scott, I will whack you if you don't spill the beans. I told you everything I know." Rachel wrinkled her nose in irritation.

  "Alright, alright." Scott smiled. "But only because you look so cute when you're annoyed."

  In response, she hit him with a pillow. He dodged the blow easily and made as if to tickle her. She shot up out of bed and shook her head.

  "Be serious, Scott."

  He looked almost disappointed that she wasn't her usual playful self but Rachel didn't think she ever would be again around him. Her heart was a little too sore.

  "Ok,” he said. "I was ‘unofficially’ helping Captain Walter. You know, suggesting leads and the like. One of the first things I asked him to look up, of course, was the gold lighter."

  "Fabulous." Rachel smiled.

  "Like Uncle Sidney confirmed, the lighter used to belong to my grandfather, Peter Mutton, and, when he passed, it was inherited by Uncle Jordan." Scott paused. "We also found that cigarette stub near the fusebox and Zizka confirmed that it was the same brand Uncle Jordan smokes. She also confirmed that neither Aunt Paris nor Uncle Sidney, nor Tyler for that matter, smoke cigarettes. Aunt Bethany hasn't been seen smoking for the last two years, either."

  Rachel nodded. "Yes. That seems in line with whatever I've heard."

  "So that's a big deal." Scott sighed. "Ever since, Jordan has been our prime suspect. Given his history of violence, he was obviously the first person I suggested Captain Walter look at."

  Rachel nodded. "Makes sense. But what about motive?"

  "It'll take some time before they sort out the accounts,” Scott said. "But Captain Walter mentioned that there are rumors around town that Uncle Jordan gambles. There's a very real chance that he cooked the company books to steal money."

  Rachel gulped. "You think Uncle Jordan was stealing money from Grandma?"

  "Not from Grandma,” Scott said. "From his company, Booth Landscaping Corporation. If he were stealing from Grandma, she could forgive him. But if he's caught stealing from Booth Corp, even though he's president of the company, that's a crime against shareholders. It’s not a public company but they still have private shareholders. He could very well go to jail."

  "That’s…how sure are you?"

  "Like I said, there's no concrete evidence yet, but Captain Walter was reasonably sure this c
ould turn out to be a valid lead,” Scott said. "It's just a matter of time. That's why I insisted on staying in the house. I've been keeping a careful watch on Jordan in my time here. I don't want to take any chances of him striking again."

  Rachel shivered. "What a horrible man. Poor Aunt Bethany."

  "Don't rule her out quite so quickly,” Scott said. "See, the thing is, it's very possible this is a two-person job. One cuts the lights, the other uses that time to kill Johnny Hayes."

  "You think she was in on it?" Rachel was horrified.

  "She might have been,” Scott said. "Things got complicated once Captain Walter found new evidence- earphones with Tyler's DNA."

  "Right." Rachel sighed. "Tyler's DNA. How do you explain that?"

  "We can't." Scott shook his head. "It's possible Tyler was working with Uncle Jordan. Or that we're mistaken entirely about Uncle Jordan and it was Tyler all along."

  Rachel closed her eyes, letting Scott's words float through her mind. Uncle Jordan. Yes. It would fit well if Uncle Jordan were the murderer. It would explain everything, as a matter of fact. It would wrap up the case neatly, with a ribbon on top.

  So why couldn't she believe it? Why were her instincts telling her that something was missing? That it was something she was missing? She let out a frustrated grunt.

  "What?" Scott asked. "What are you thinking?"

  "Ghosts,” Rachel said. "I'm thinking of ghosts. Aunt Paris said something the other day. She said, ‘If only dead men could tell tales.’ Well, Johnny Hayes did say something. He said ‘long horses’. Zizka said she heard him say that distinctly."

  "Right." Scott nodded. “I forgot to mention that. We tried to follow up on that but nobody in Johnny Hayes' office knew what it meant. The books don't mention a thing, either."

  "Did the police check his internet and phone history?" Rachel asked. "And how about any ex-girlfriends or angry employees? I mean, it is still possible that an outsider killed Johnny."

  "The police checked. It doesn't seem likely,” Scott said. "Captain Walter couldn't find anything of note in his internet or phone history. As for other potential killers, Johnny Hayes was a divorced man with no children. His ex-wife lives in New York and has an alibi. He'd been dating a woman from his gym for the last two months. She said the night he died they’d gone to an art gallery and then had an early dinner at a Chinese restaurant. He dropped her off at home and then went his own way. From what we can tell, he went back to the office to finish up some files and then drove to Mulberry Mansion instead of going home."