Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
For the next few days, Taylor kept busy cleaning the house and going for daily runs. As she still hadn’t met with the attorney, she didn’t feel as if she could dispose of any of her father’s things, so she left his room and the boxed-up stuff in the attic untouched and concentrated instead on the kitchen and living room.
By Saturday night, Taylor had grown tired of her own company. She texted Angi, asking if she wanted to FaceTime and got the call a minute later.
“How are you? Dix and I have been wondering how you’re doing in far-off Merry-land.”
Taylor chuckled. “I’m making merry. Tell Dix hi.”
“He’s right here.” Angi shifted the phone. “Tell him yourself.”
Of course he was right there. No surprise. After six months of dating, Dix and Angi had become inseparable. He’d moved in the day Taylor moved out.
“Hey, Dix. How are you liking your new digs?”
Dix, a tall, skinny guy with glasses, grinned. “The place is great. The roommate, well, oof.” His grin widened when Angi punched him in the side. “It’s all good.”
The fact that it had become clear over the past couple of months that the couple had wanted to live together but not kick Taylor out, well, it had made her decision to leave Chicago easier.
“How’s the old hometown?” Angi asked, her face now the only one on the screen.
“Babe, we need to leave in five minutes,” Dix called in the background.
“GraceTown is good.” Anticipating Angi’s next question, Taylor added, “I like it here.”
Then, because she knew Angi didn’t have it in her to cut the conversation short, Taylor said, “Sounds like you guys have somewhere to be. We can catch up another time. I’m heading out in a bit, anyway. Several friends of my dad are hosting a celebration for him at a local bar.”
Dix reappeared on the screen. “Sounds more like a party than a funeral,” Dix joked, then sobered. “I’m sorry about your dad, Taylor.”
“Thank you.” Taylor thought of all the relationships that her dad had fostered and enjoyed during his lifetime. Despite him professing not to want any hoopla, Taylor knew he’d be touched that his friends wanted to honor him in this way.
“Take care, sweetie.” Angi’s eyes softened. “Keep in touch. You know I’m always here for you.”
Taylor somehow managed to keep her voice even and the smile on her lips. “Miss you bunches. You two have a fun evening.”
Once the call ended, Taylor sagged against the seat cushions of the sofa and considered her options.
Television.
Reading.
Cleaning. Ugh, no, she’d had her fill of that for the day.
The Thirsty Pug got the nod. Actually, not going had never been an option.
She glanced at her watch. It was still early, and she had more than enough time to make herself presentable .
Taylor wasn’t sure what to expect of the event, but she was grateful his friends had thought enough of her dad to pull this together.
Taylor strode into the Thirsty Pug. Though it wasn’t even seven yet, the bar was already crowded. A whiteboard with her dad’s name on it directed her to the back of the bar.
She’d assumed it would be casual, since the event was being held at bar, so she’d chosen navy pants and a cream-colored sweater. Even so, she could see that she was overdressed, with most attendees in jeans.
Wall-to-wall people filled the room, which was likely spacious when empty. It certainly wasn’t empty now. Not sure if she should plow into the madness or ease her way in, Taylor remained at the edge.
“I hoped our paths would cross this evening.”
Taylor turned, and there was Chloe. A blonde woman stood beside her. They must have gotten the jeans memo since they fit in with the group.
“Hi, Chloe.” Taylor cast a curious glance in the blonde’s direction.
“Taylor, this is my roommate, Emily Curtis.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Emily offered a warm smile.
“Hey, Em, could you keep Taylor company for a few minutes?” Chloe slipped her hand into her bag and pulled out a photograph. “I want to get this on the board before I forget.”
“What is it?” Taylor asked.
“The announcement said to bring pics of Bob if you had any,” Chloe explained. “I found this one in one of Til’s old photo albums.”
“May I see it?” Taylor asked .
“Of course.” Chloe gave a little laugh and handed Taylor the photograph. “It’s your parents.”
“Chloe.” A voice rang out from somewhere in the crowd.
Chloe must have spotted whoever it was, because she waved wildly, then turned back to Emily and Taylor. “I won’t be long.”
Taylor's gaze dropped to the picture, one of her parents and Til. Her dad was wearing the houndstooth jacket. He looked young and happy, his cheeks reddened from the cold and his hair going every which way in the wind. He had an arm slung around her mother’s shoulders.
The photo had been taken in their backyard. But there weren’t enough other things in the photograph for her to identify what was going on.
“That’s Til Beemis,” Emily told Taylor, pointing to the older woman beside Lynda. “Your parents had invited her over for a crab feast. She wasn’t the only one invited. All the neighbors were there.”
“I knew Til,” Taylor told Emily. “But I don’t recall this party. I didn’t think my parents ever did anything together.” Taylor clamped her mouth shut. This was neither the time nor the place to bring up old wounds.
“They did,” Emily said as if she knew that for sure, rather than simply extrapolating from one picture.
Before Taylor could respond, Chloe called to her friend and motioned to her.
Emily glanced at Taylor. “Come with?”
“Go ahead.” Taylor tried to hand Emily the picture.
Emily shook her head. “You keep it.”
Once Emily left, Taylor dropped the photograph into her purse and stepped farther into the crowd just in time to catch the toast given by her dad’s former captain and the man who’d been his first partner when he joined the force.
“Though I hated seeing Bob leave the force, I knew he wanted more—more autonomy, more free time, more of a life. As many here know, being a police officer presents significant challenges. The irregular hours can disrupt family routines and affect quality time with loved ones. Policing is inherently stressful, and that stress frequently spills over into family life. It can be difficult to maintain a work-life balance.”
Captain Joe Strong scanned the crowd, a smile of recognition lifting his lips when he spotted Taylor. “Bob wanted something different, and he took steps to make that happen. I believe his years as a PI were good ones. Like you, I only wish he’d had more of them.” The captain lifted his glass. “To Bob.”
Taylor grabbed a beer from the trayful a server had just set on the table next to her and lifted the pilsner glass.
“To Bob.” Her voice melded with the others’. When she lowered her glass and took a drink, Taylor realized she’d found her calm. Despite the crowd and Mick Jagger—the Rolling Stones had been her dad’s favorite band—belting out a rock classic, Taylor felt steady.
“I’m glad you made it.”
Taylor turned, and there was Jameson. Like most of the men, he was in jeans. But while many wore Orioles, Ravens, or GraceTown PD sweatshirts, Jameson had on a forest green sweater.
“I called the bar, and they said my dad’s memorial event started at seven.” It had been six fifty when Taylor walked through the door to an already crowded room.
Jameson shrugged. “The manager let us set up early, knowing many would come to the bar straight after their shift ended.”
“This is nice.” Her gaze swept the room, taking in the table with pitchers of beer and another holding crab cake sliders and bowls of chips seasoned with Old Bay in individual packages.
A large poster-sized picture of her dad in his dress blues hung over a table holding several framed photographs. People were pinning pictures of her dad on a nearby easel. She assumed that’s where the photograph Chloe had brought would end up .
When Taylor cast a glance in Jameson’s direction, she found him watching her with an unreadable expression.
“I know you said Bob didn’t want this?—”
Taylor placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “This is nice,” she repeated. “And necessary, I think.”
Jameson arched a dark brow, and it struck her just how very handsome he was.
“F-for those left behind,” she clarified.
He nodded.
Her phone buzzed, and her heart skipped a beat. The attorney had said he’d text when he was back in town. “Excuse me.”
Jameson’s gaze shifted, and he took a sip of beer, giving her privacy. Or as much privacy as there could be in this crowd.
Pulling out her phone, Taylor saw that instead of the lawyer, her mother had texted again.
Please let me know when you schedule the memorial service. I want to be there.
Too late, Taylor thought. Ignoring the quick stab of guilt, she dropped the phone back into the purse hanging by a thin gold chain over her shoulder.
“All good?” Jameson asked.
“I’m going to mingle.” She offered him a quick smile. Right now, she needed to keep moving. “I’ll catch you later.”
As she navigated her way through the crowd, the laughter and music created an almost festive air. Before she reached the table with the photographs, Joe Strong stepped in front of her.
“Taylor.”
She wasn’t sure what to think when he wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug.
“I heard you were in town. I'm glad you came.”
Taylor gestured with one hand. “Thanks for organizing this. As I was walking through the crowd, I was blown away by all the snippets of Bob stories I overheard.”
“Your dad was the best.” Joe’s eyes turned misty. “He had a kind word for everyone, and the jokes that man pulled off are legendary.” Shaking his head, Joe chuckled.
“I’ve been focused on my sadness,” Taylor said, “but this is a good reminder that remembering my dad can be fun, too. It’s also hard.” She clamped her lips together when they began to tremble. “I miss him so much.”
“I understand.” Joe hesitated. “May I give you some advice?”
“Please.”
“As a cop, you see a lot of things, and you lose a lot of people. Whenever I’m sad about someone I’ve lost, I stop and recall a positive memory about them. It always turns me around.”
Taylor considered the suggestion and then nodded.
“Because of the kind of man your father was, I’m betting you’ll have an endless supply of happy memories.”
Taylor’s lips curved as she recalled a memory of her dad and the man standing before her now. “Do you remember when you invited my dad and me to your place for a spaghetti dinner?”
“Do I remember?” Joe laughed out loud. “We had noodles stuck to the ceiling and a pot overflowing with sauce.”
“You have to admit the pizza we ended up ordering was excellent,” Taylor quipped.
“It was the best.” Joe shook his head. “Like I said, endless good memories.”
Yes, Taylor thought, there were so many, and going forward, she would do her best to focus on them.
Early Monday morning, Taylor knocked on the door of Elite with three cups of coffee sitting in a cardboard tray in one hand and a sack containing a half dozen of Cuppa Joe’s famous sourdough cinnamon rolls in the other.
She’d hoped to catch both Jameson and Glenna in the office by arriving early. It appeared she’d succeeded .
Glenna hurried to unlock the door. “Let me help you with that.”
Carefully lifting the cardboard tray from Taylor’s hand, Glenna set it on her desk.
“What is this?” Jameson’s smile was friendly, and delight showed on his face.
When she’d returned home Saturday night with the poster and all the pictures everyone had brought, Taylor had been overwhelmed with gratitude and emotion.
As she recalled Saturday evening, she wondered if Jameson felt she’d ditched him. That hadn’t been her intent, but when she considered how she’d acted earlier in the office, she felt an apology was in order.
“This,” Taylor pointed to the coffee and rolls, “is an apology. I was abrupt and rude when I was here before. I’m sorry.”
Glenna studied her for a long moment, then smiled. “Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.” Taylor shifted her gaze to Jameson. “I’m also sorry if I cut our conversation short Saturday night. I?—”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind. No worries.” He gestured to the coffee and bakery sack. “Treats from Cuppa Joe make anything okay.”
Minutes later, they sat with chairs pulled up to Glenna’s desk, paper plates of rolls and cups of steaming coffee before them.
“I want to thank you both for your part in Saturday night’s event.” Before the evening ended, Taylor had learned that not only had Captain Strong and several other officers been involved in the planning, but Jameson and Glenna as well.
Glenna glanced at Taylor. “Your father meant a lot to both of us.”
“Joe Strong did the majority of the planning.” Jameson chased a bite of a cinnamon roll with a drink of coffee. “Our only involvement was supplying the names of those who might want to be invited. ”
“Well, thank you for whatever you did. I know my dad said he didn’t want any fuss, but I believe he’d have enjoyed the party.” That’s how it had felt to Taylor, a party, not a funeral—an evening filled with happy memories, not sadness and tears.
“You’re very welcome.” Glenna’s gaze settled on the jacket Taylor had pulled on that morning. “You’re wearing Bob’s coat.”
“He loved that jacket.” Jameson smiled. “I have to say it looks better on you than on him.”
“Well, thank you. I do know that it makes me feel close to him when I wear it.”
A look of understanding filled Glenna’s eyes, and she held out a hand. “This sapphire was my mother’s wedding ring. I feel that same way when I wear it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Taylor said, taking a sip of coffee. “There’s a story that goes with this coat, and I’m warning you, it’s a little spooky, and it might freak you out.”
“Glenna and I are seasoned professionals.” A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Jameson’s lips. “Not much surprises us.”
“Okay, hold on to your coffee cups.” Taylor spoke only when she was certain she had Glenna and Jameson’s full attention. “I found this coat at the Nifty Thrifty.”
“What?” Glenna's voice rose. “What was it doing there?”
Taylor lifted her hands and let them fall.
“Your father would have never given that coat away.” Glenna’s tone brooked no argument.
“The owner of the thrift store said a woman named Eileen brought it in.” Taylor shifted her gaze from Glenna to Jameson, then back again. “Does that name sound familiar?”
The two exchanged glances and then shook their heads.
“There was a note in the pocket. The handwriting looked just like my dad’s printing.” Taylor wished she’d have thought to bring it with her this morning.
Jameson took another bite of roll. “What did the note say?”
“‘I love you. Don’t sell.’ ”
Glenna’s brows pulled together. “That’s a strange message.”
“I know.” Taylor blew out a breath. “I’d like to believe the note was from him to me. He used to write me notes all the time when I was growing up.”
“Maybe it is from him.” Glenna’s eyes sparkled now. “You know, a GraceTown thing.”
“I can’t quite make myself go there.” Taylor wrapped her hands around the cup, liking the warmth. “I mean, I heard all the stories as a kid about this town being a place of the unexplainable. Not that I’ve ever known anyone who had anything weird happen.”
“Doesn’t mean the rumors aren’t true,” Glenna said.
“Back to the jacket.” Jameson gestured with the hand holding the cup. “I think we can all agree that Bob would have never intentionally given away the jacket. But a couple of months back, there was a community rummage sale to benefit some charity that helps kids or retired cops or something.” He turned to Glenna. “Remember?”
Glenna tsked. “Not ‘something.’ The Fellowship of Former Officers Comfort the Kids Drive.”
“Right. That’s what I said.” Jameson nodded, then turned toward Taylor. “He donated stuff. Maybe the jacket got mixed in by mistake.”
Taylor could see that happening. “That might explain how the coat ended up at Nifty Thrifty, but it doesn’t explain the note.”
“Could you be thinking that it’s his handwriting because you want the note to be from him?” Jameson spoke cautiously, as if navigating through a minefield.
Was that what was happening here?
“Do you plan on selling something of Bob’s?” Glenna’s green depths sparkled with curiosity.
Taylor thought about the lawyer’s cryptic message about her dad making provisions for her mother. “While my dad never tried to keep me in GraceTown, he has pushed me to reconnect with my mom. The attorney indicated the house was mine, but he’d also said something about my father making provisions for my mom.”
“Could he have given your mother part of the house?” Glenna asked. “Or…of something else?”
“As I said, our official meeting has been delayed, so I don’t know all the details yet. But I guess anything is possible.”
Apparently not content with that answer, Glenna pressed, “What about the business?”
“The attorney didn’t mention the business on the phone, and I didn’t think to ask.” Taylor glanced at Jameson. “I assume my dad’s share will go to you.”
“I guess we’ll find out once Blount is back in town.” Jameson’s expression gave nothing away.
“Right now, I’m not concerned about the house or the business,” Taylor admitted. “I simply want to know more about the person who brought in the coat and if my father wrote the note in the pocket.”
Taylor supposed she could wait for this to play out. The thing was, she’d never been good at waiting. “Jameson, when you’re trying to solve a particularly vexing case, how do you go about it?”
He didn’t appear surprised by the question. “Once I look at my relevant information, I come up with an objective. Then I develop a strategic plan for investigating and gathering any additional information I need.”
Nodding, Taylor took a sip of coffee.
Facts and evidence.
Her dad had focused on both when he’d worked on a case.
At the moment, Taylor didn’t have a strategy. But she was her father’s daughter. She would develop a plan, start her investigation and get to the bottom of this mystery.
Starting now.