8. Reports Are In...
Eloise lifted her face to the morning air with her hands wrapped around an ivory mug with painted forget-me-nots and smelled what was a promise that rain would be visiting tonight. It was the smell of the deep, underground breathing; the sun closing its eyes for a moment of rest. When she told Ursulashe would not need her sprinklers as she was leaving for the coffee shop, her friend did not question it.
Later that afternoon she found herself on the front porch with Ursula and Crystal going over the curious case of the pink teenager.
"So, none of us hexed the kid. But he is an alarming shade of pink which is concerning after what Bess told us," Crystal mused as she sat with Ursula and Eloise on the front porch. The days were still cool, but the sun was pressing itself more firmly against the world giving them a perfect sixty-five-degree day. The black wicker furniture was a cozy place to talk over honey lavender biscuits and lemon sun tea.
Today was the second day that Eloise helped at the coffee shop and thankfully tomorrow they would have good coffee to work with. She had ruminated over an idea while descaling one of the espresso machines this morning and had called Shellee before she brought it to Ursula. Shellee, as it turned out, was an absolute delight to talk to and one of those women who encouraged collaboration in a way that made her excited. When she got home after leaving the shop in two of the barista's very capable hands, she found Crystal and Ursula here on the porch with Casper laying in a large, grey heap soaking in the square of sunlight he'd found.
"It is concerning," Ursula agreed. "Hey, I heard your nephew and his wife are moving?"
Crystal sighed, shaking her head. Today she was in another flowing ensemble of a woven copper top and wide, breezy pants. The woman knew how to make the art of dressing like a matriarch from old money on Martha's Vineyard look effortless.
"It turns out, that they are not so keen on making a business out of an entire farm of pink, sparkly eggs."
"You think someone can make that a business?" Ursula asked.
"Oh sure, with the right marketing," Crystal said easily.
"Jen knows a guy in marketing," Eloise added with a smirk.
"I hear he's handsome and smart and likes red flowers," a fourth, masculine voice joined them.
The three women turned to see Detective Taylor White, on duty if his uniform was any indicator, walking up the steps of The Lost Souls House. "Though not as handsome as me." His dimple winked. "Ladies," he greeted with a respectful tip of the head.
"Ah Taylor, nice to see you. How's your mother doing?"
"Afternoon, Miss Crystal. She's doing well, thanks for asking. I'll tell her you asked after her."
"Do that. Can I get you some tea, dear?"
"No thank you, ma'am. I'm not much of a tea guy."
"What a shame. How can we help you?"
"I'm here on business, I'm afraid."
Eloise and Ursula shared a sly look.
"You here about that Kyle?"
He nodded, the smirk gone from his serious face. His serious face, unfortunately, was actually quite attractive but Eloise decided to simply observe that and move on. "Kyle Sandman said he woke up to find that his skin was pink for no reason," he looked at Eloise who kept her face blank.
"That is quite dreadful, but don't tell me you're here to ask us about it because of a biased newspaper," Crystal said with a disappointed look on her wise face.
"Well," Taylor drew the word out before he added the next surprise. "I would agree with you that an article using poor journalistic integrity would not land me here in front of you. Except, text messages were discovered between Kyle and two of his friends. One telling them what he had told Bess about her being a pink feminist who spends her time with old biddies and then a responding text from one of his friends, a Justin Ashford," he said reading through notes on a small pad of paper, whichEloise thought was charming in a world of screens and buttons. "He said, 'you shouldn't waste your time with a drug addict's white trash daughter who will end up just like her with missing teeth and a bottle of Hendricks Gin always in her hand.'"
"So teenagers haven't gotten any better, I see," Eloise said her tone dry.
He closed the pad of paper and gave her a flat look. "The problem, ladies, is that Justin Ashford woke up with missing teeth and a bottle of Hendricks Gin in his hand and his parents can't keep him from drinking it."
"You're kidding," Ursula said, her face held disbelief.
"We had to lock him up in psych at the hospital for twenty-four hours to keep him from the bottle. Kid left school, still tipsy, to steal a bottle from the liquor store on the corner of Greenleaf and Tenth."
"Linus's place?" Crystal let out a low hum. "That man has a memory longer than an elephant's. He press charges?"
"We got him to drop them," he replied patiently.
