It was dark by the time everyone finally left Flower House. I’d missed dinner, but I still didn’t have an appetite. Sitting in the shop’s office, a small study with an unused fireplace and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with Felix’s books and fishing paraphernalia, I forced myself to eat a granola bar. If anything, it should at least ward off lightheadedness. I’d just gotten off the phone with my mom—a taxing conversation, considering I had no answers for most of her questions. I didn’t know the professor’s backstory or why he was in the storeroom. And I had no idea what all this meant for the shop … or for me personally. I didn’t even know what I should do next. I was thinking about knocking on Calvin’s door, when I heard Gus skittering down the hall. That noise was followed by Calvin’s much slower footsteps.
“In here!” I called, swiveling in the desk chair.
Gus ran in and jumped on my legs. I scratched the top of his head and looked up as Calvin appeared in the doorway. His face was drawn, and his hair was mussed, as if he’d been repeatedly running his fingers through it.
“Hey,” he said simply.
“Hey,” I returned.
“I fed Gus,” he said.
“Thank you.”
For a moment, Calvin studied the floor, not saying a word. It was so quiet, I could hear the clock ticking on the mantel. Two lamps gave the room a cozy, orange glow.
“Why don’t you sit down?” I said, nodding toward an upholstered chair in the corner.
He complied, sitting heavily in the chair, and dropped his head into his hands. “This is a nightmare,” he mumbled.
“It’s bizarre, is what it is,” I said. “I mean, this guy shows up out of nowhere with a van full of college kids—and acting sort of entitled and snobby, if you ask me. He apparently manages to offend everyone he meets, disappears into the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time, and then … somebody clobbers him over the head. And suddenly he’s dead!” I laughed humorlessly. “I mean, what in the heck just happened here?”
Calvin looked up and gave me the faintest of smiles. “Sounds typical for Lowry. Except for the dying part.”
“You mentioned you’d just seen him before … well, before we found him. Did you mean outside, when he arrived?”
“No, after that, too. Before I took Gus for a walk, I saw him in the orchid room talking to some students.”
“What were they talking about? Did you tell Bradley?”
“Yeah, I told her, but I don’t know what they were talking about. They were on the far side of the room, and I didn’t go in. I didn’t want to talk to him.”
I waited for Calvin to go on. As far as I was concerned, he had a lot of explaining to do. Right after we’d found the professor’s body, Calvin had said he’d hated the man. Those were strong words. And Officer Bradley told me Lowry had stolen something of Calvin’s and cost him his job. There was no denying that the cops were very interested in Calvin’s relationship with the dead man.
Was I really going to have to pry it out of him?
“Calvin,” I began. “If you tell me everything, I might be able to help.”
He met my eyes for an instant before looking away again. “I wanted to keep my past in the past. I wanted to forget the whole dismal, humiliating affair.”
“A humiliating past? Remind me to tell you about my stint in Nashville.” I kept my voice light in an effort to put him at ease. “I gave my heart to a moody playwright, who turned out to be a liar and a cheat. I started out with high hopes and a promising music career—and ended up with an empty bank account, a broken leg, and a dream deferred. We all have pasts we’d rather forget.”
He grinned in spite of himself. “I will definitely remind you to fill in the blanks there. You can count on it.”
I smiled back at him. “So, Knoxville? The University of Tennessee?”
“Yeah.” He sat back and gazed at the ceiling. “A few years ago, I was Professor Lowry’s grad assistant. I looked up to him. He was basically a mentor to me, and we became friends. After I earned my master’s degree, he got me hired as an adjunct in his department.”
He paused, as if collecting his thoughts. I leaned down and nudged Gus, who had been lying on my feet. “Get Calvin!” I whispered.
The pup obediently hopped up and leaped onto Calvin’s lap. Smiling briefly, Calvin ruffled Gus’s fur.
“So, I was teaching a couple classes,” he continued, “and, at the same time, working toward my doctorate. The university has state-of-the-art labs, a huge greenhouse, and several acres of land for Ag. Studies. Steve let me have free rein. I conducted experiments and developed a nice body of plant research. My aim was to find optimal growing conditions for the fastest growing edible plants—and, ultimately, you know, stamp out world hunger.” His eyes sparkled. “It might have been a tad ambitious.”
“I think it’s amazing,” I said, truly impressed. I’d known Calvin was smart, but I had no idea the extent of his talents. “So, what happened?” I asked, echoing the question of the day.
He shook his head. “Something happened with Lowry. I couldn’t say exactly what or when, but he changed. I guess it was gradual.”
“He stopped being your friend?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t obvious at first. He’d always been aloof and arrogant. Difficult. He was a strict teacher, but most students loved him anyway.”
“It sounds like he was respected.”
“Yeah. He had a reputation for brilliance—and for passing some of that brilliance along to a select group of students. There was an unofficial club, known as ‘Lowry’s Leaders.’ He’d nurture and guide them, teach them how to think like him. Most importantly, he’d write letters of recommendation for them.” Calvin paused, squinting his eyes at the memory. “I guess I was part of that group as an undergrad, but it turned into something else later. The new crop of students became his disciples.”
I pictured the professor as he looked this afternoon, with his wire-rimmed glasses and white goatee. He’d seemed distracted and impatient, with a definite air of authority. This tracked with how Calvin described him.
“It must’ve been early last fall when he started flaking on me,” said Calvin. “He stopped returning my calls. We’d make plans to meet for lunch or coffee, and he’d fail to show up. At first, I took it personally, until I realized he was doing it to others. He even missed a class or two. I heard the department chair had to have a talk with him.”
“Was there something going on in his personal life?”
“I have no idea. For all I thought I knew him, he was really a very private man. As the weeks went by, it seemed the only people he’d talk to outside of class were his inner circle of student followers.”
“Lowry’s Leaders,” I said.
“More like Lowry’s Lackeys. From what I could tell, it seemed like he was using the students as his personal assistants, making them run errands for him, do his chores.”
I recalled the students on the field trip. At least half of them had seemed too self-absorbed to make very good assistants. “Did you recognize any of the people here today? Were they part of the professor’s inner circle?”
“Yeah, I did see a couple of them. That guy we saw smoking outside. His name is Vince Gonzalez. And the bookish-looking guy in the orchid room, Isaiah Adams.” Ah, the rebel and the preppy.
“What about the blonde girl?” I asked. “I saw her with both of those guys at different times.”
“Oh, yeah. Her too. April Finley. I never had her in class, but I saw her hanging out in the science building with the others.”
I thought about what Calvin had said. Was Professor Lowry using the kids? Could they have resented him for it? It seemed unlikely. If anything, it sounded like they had a mutually beneficial arrangement.
As Calvin talked, his voice had dropped in volume. I’d rolled my chair closer to his, so I could hear him better. By this time, our knees were nearly touching. It was such a cozy, intimate moment, with the soft light and quiet darkness beyond—and Gus snoozing peacefully in the chair beside Calvin. Almost without thinking, I reached out and rested the back of my hand on Calvin’s knee.
“So, what happened with your research?” I asked gently.
“Hmm?” He was momentarily distracted, but quickly cleared his throat. “Oh, that. That’s the shortest part of this story. I showed up at school one morning, all set to put the finishing touches on my research paper. Lowry was going to help me get it published. But the buzz on campus that day was all about an article Lowry had just published. I got a hold of a copy, and … yeah. It was mine. Word for word.”
I winced in sympathy. “Didn’t you have proof it was yours? I don’t see how he could get away with that.”
Calvin shook his head, continuing in a despondent tone. “He took everything and then some. Whenever I tried to tell anyone the truth, he managed to twist it around and make me look like the bad guy. Like I was jealous and trying to take credit for his work.”
“Wow,” I said. “That must’ve really hurt.” I remembered the other professor, Sheila Washington, and asked if she might have known about Calvin’s research.
“Unfortunately, no. She’s fairly new to the school, and I never interacted with her much.”
“That’s too bad.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“I was pretty much done after that,” Calvin continued. “Lowry recommended my classes be cut the following semester, and they were. He also said he could no longer be my faculty advisor. Just like that, I was out of a job and a career.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was a real blow,” said Calvin. He rested his hand on mine, and I curled my fingers around his. I was touched he was opening up to me like this. I’d never felt closer to him.
Calvin sighed. “It was around this time Felix was telling me about Aerieville and Flower House. About how beautiful and friendly it is here. I needed a fresh start. So … here I am.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said softly. “UT’s loss is my gain—I mean, our gain. You do so much around here…” I trailed off, feeling self-conscious and hyperaware of his touch.
His eyes fluttered to my face, lingering in my gaze, then dropping to my lips. My heart skipped ahead, as I imagined what it would feel like to kiss him. Our knees met, and, slowly, we leaned toward one other.
Our faces were inches apart, when Gus erupted in a deafening bark. We jumped back, as the dog jumped to the floor and flew out the door.
“Jeez, Gus!” said Calvin, bounding to his feet.
I held my hand to my heart, as I rolled my chair back and stood up, laughing nervously. “He’s louder than a fire alarm!”
We followed Gus to the front of the shop. He’d stopped barking and was now emitting a low growl at the front door. Calvin looked out the window before opening the door, and we both peered outside. There was nothing to see.
“Must’ve been an animal,” Calvin guessed.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Good boy, Gus. Way to protect us from cats and raccoons.”
All was quiet again as Calvin closed the door. Part of me wanted to suggest we go back to the study and pick up where we left off, but the moment had passed. The spell was broken. It was time for Gus and me to go home.
It was after nine when I arrived home at my tiny cottage on the edge of town. My mom had nicknamed my place the “dollhouse” because of its gingerbread trim and overall cuteness. In fact, it was barely bigger than a child’s playhouse, with one small bedroom, an eat-in kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. The décor was simple, eclectic, and bright—kind of like me. And every free surface held a vase of slightly damaged, but still pretty, flowers I’d brought home from work.
I loved it. It was my haven and my hideaway. Only now, as I parked my car on the street, it seemed to be occupied. At least half the lights were on.
“Looks like we have company,” I said to Gus, as we walked up to the house. I wasn’t worried. I’d recognized Deena’s car. I’d recently given her a spare key—not specifically so that she could be there to greet me after I’d discovered a body, but her instincts were right on.
I let myself in and kicked off my shoes. Gus ran straight for the kitchen. He greeted Deena with a friendly, excited bark, and I called out, “Honey, I’m home!”
She poked her head around the corner and gave me a questioning look. She wore a flour-spattered apron and a scarf around her glossy black hair. “I’m glad you’re in a chipper mood,” she said. “I expected … the opposite.”
“You heard the news then?” I joined her in the kitchen and sat down at the table, which was covered with mixing bowls, cookie sheets, and containers of baking ingredients.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “My parents and I had finished dinner and were leaving Augie’s when we ran into Nell Cusley in the parking lot. Actually, I think she spotted us and pulled in specifically to share the newsflash.” Nell Cusley, the owner of Nell’s Diner downtown, was essentially Aerieville’s town crier. She liked to be the first to break all big gossip, the worse the better.
“Figures,” I said, reaching for a cookie. Deena had been experimenting with different flower recipes over the past month. This one was a version of her rose petal sugar cookies, made with rose water and bits of dried rose petals. “Mmm. This one is a keeper,” I said, around a mouthful of cookie.
She shot me an incredulous stare, probably because of my nonchalant mood. To be honest, I wasn’t really sure why I was so calm. Maybe I was in denial. Or maybe it had something to do with Calvin. We’d both been extra casual when I left, as if nothing had changed between us. But, of course, it had.
“What are you smiling at?” demanded Deena. “Was there not another murder at Flower House?”
“No, there was,” I said, as I grabbed another cookie. “I’m just so tired and hungry, it’s making me giddy, I guess.”
“Hang on,” she said. “Instead of gorging on cookies, try this.” She opened my fridge and took out a large salad bowl filled with mixed greens, pink rose petals, purple chive flowers, and yellow marigold blossoms.
“Ooh, that looks beautiful! Almost too pretty to eat.” I hopped up for a bowl and a fork.
Deena took a glass bottle from the refrigerator, shook it, and set it on the table next to a container of pepitas. “Raspberry vinaigrette,” she said. “And pumpkin seeds for crunch.”
I dressed the salad and dug in, as she used a spatula to carefully transfer the cookies into airtight containers.
“I drove straight to Flower House from the restaurant,” she said. “At least, I tried to. The police turned me away at the end of the block. I guess they’d had enough with all the gawkers.”
“It was a madhouse,” I confirmed.
“That’s when I decided to wait for you at your house,” she said. “Plus, my kitchen is filled with so much food for the café, there’s not much room left for baking.”
I didn’t respond. The day was finally catching up to me. And, while the salad was delicious, my mind was replaying the chaotic events of the afternoon. It had all happened so fast.
Deena fell silent and cleaned up the kitchen. Then she sat down across from me, as I ate my last bite.
“Okay, Sierra,” she said. “Lay it on me. How bad is it? Do we need to postpone our grand opening?”
I shook my head, as the gravity of the situation finally sank in. “I don’t know. Maybe. The shop is still technically a crime scene, and the storeroom is off-limits.” The police had draped yellow tape across the entry to the storeroom. They’d told me it appeared Lowry had been hit in that room—rather than being placed there after the fact. “I have no idea how quickly the cops are going to solve this thing, but the grand opening isn’t actually my biggest worry right now.”
“Understandable,” Deena said soberly. “A man has died.”
“Yeah, that’s terrible,” I agreed. “But that’s not what I meant. I’m more concerned that the police think Calvin had something to do with it.”
She raised her eyebrows, and I told her everything I could remember, from the arrival of the UT van to Calvin’s account of his departure from the university. I skipped the part about holding his hand and (maybe? possibly?) almost kissing him. Did that even happen? It no longer seemed important.
Deena listened quietly. When I finished, she expressed sympathy but seemed more puzzled than anything. “It sounds like the police were quick to conclude there was foul play. How do they know it wasn’t an accident? Maybe the man tripped, or something fell on his head.”
I shook my head. “It was obvious he’d been struck from behind. Plus, the weapon was found, remember?”
“Okay. Then who did it? Could someone have come in off the street?” she asked. “The back door was unlocked when I left.”
“Unlikely. Not without being seen.” I’d wondered the same thing myself and rejected the possibility. “The timing is too narrow. The police established Lowry was alive just minutes before Gus led us to his body, and there were people all around. Some kids were next door at Bread n’ Butter, and others were outside by the greenhouse. Bart was in his truck, and Wanda was … wandering around outside someplace. I think.”
“What about Calvin?”
“He and Gus had gone for a walk. They returned, while I was up front cleaning. I know, because Gus ran in to greet me. Calvin had gone upstairs for a minute—and that must be when it happened. Somebody whacked Professor Lowry on the back of the head. In the storeroom. With the candlestick.”
We both heard it: echoes from the game of Clue. Deena gave me a wry grin, and I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle. There was nothing funny about this situation, but I couldn’t help it. The giddiness was back.
“Maybe they’ll find fingerprints on the candlestick,” said Deena. “If everything happened that quickly, the guilty person probably didn’t have time to wipe it down.”
“Maybe.” I wanted to be optimistic. It would be great if the police could just solve the crime and be done with it. Yet somehow I doubted we’d be that lucky. If the killer had lured Lowry into the storeroom and hit him from behind, there must have been at least a little bit of planning. They’d also had enough time to throw the weapon in the trash, rather than drop it on the floor. It wasn’t like they wanted to be caught.
A tap on the front door broke into my thoughts. Gus gave a bark and ran to see who it could be.
“Expecting someone?” asked Deena.
“Not really, but…” I trailed off, standing up. We went into the living room, and I looked out the window. “But I’m not surprised,” I finished. “It’s Rocky.”
I opened the door to my brother, younger than me by four years but much larger in stature. He held a casserole dish, which was a little incongruous, considering he wore short-shorts and a bodybuilding tank top, both of which showcased his ample, sculpted muscles.
I took the pan and stood back to let him in. “Hey, bro. It’s a little late for a drop-in, isn’t it?”
“Hi, sis. I saw your lights were on.” He reached down to scratch Gus behind the ears. “Hey, little buddy.”
“And you just happened to have a casserole?”
Straightening up, he flashed me a grin. “You know it’s from Mom. She’s been bugging me all evening to come and check on you.” Rocky lived in a small apartment above our parents’ garage and usually had dinner with them. He was also a trainer at their gym, so he saw much more of our folks than I did. I was grateful for this arrangement. It made me feel slightly less guilty about my independent streak. I’d left town before and was liable to do it again. It was easier knowing my mom would still have one kid to fuss over—which she seemed intent on doing, no matter how old we got.
He nodded at Deena, who stood behind me. “Hey, Dee. How you holding up?”
“Me?” said Deena. “I’m fine. I missed all the excitement at the shop today.”
I turned to her, with a sudden realization. “Yeah, but this affects you too,” I said. Deena had a tendency to put on a cool, polished front, which often masked her insecurities. She must have been pretty scared and worried when she’d heard the news.
Deena shrugged, as she removed her apron and folded it neatly. “I’m fine,” she repeated.
“Have a seat, both of you.” I took the casserole into the kitchen and found a place for it in the refrigerator, then returned to the living room with a bottle of wine. “Nightcap, anyone?”
Rocky hesitated. As a calorie-counter, he wasn’t a big drinker. Deena also appeared uncertain.
“Come on. It’s just a light, white wine.” I read the label. “A sauvignon blanc.”
Deena checked her watch, then glanced at Rocky. “Maybe just half a glass,” she said. “I should get going soon.”
What was that look? Was I mistaken, or was there a hint of flirtation between Deena and my brother? I quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
“Alright,” agreed Rocky. He helped me pour the wine, and we found seats in the living room—Rocky and Deena on the couch and me on an oversized floor pillow.
“I was just telling Deena about everyone who was at the shop this afternoon,” I said.
“And it’s usually such a quiet place,” Deena said ironically.
I filled Rocky in, sticking to the highlights. “Of course, Calvin had nothing to do with it,” I concluded. “I saw his reaction when we found Lowry’s body, and he was as shocked as I was.”
Rocky’s eyes flickered with a trace of doubt. He looked like he wanted to challenge my assertion, but Deena spoke up.
“You forgot to tell him about Bart’s reaction to seeing the UT van. You said he really went after the professor.” Deena turned to Rocky. “It sounded like a case of road rage to me.”
“He was definitely mad,” I said. “But does it count as road rage if it’s after the fact? He should’ve had time to cool off.”
“Maybe seeing the professor reignited his anger,” Deena suggested.
“Bart Hammerson has always been a hothead,” said Rocky. “At least, as long as I’ve known him.”
“Wait. You know him?” I’d always assumed the deliveryman lived somewhere near our wholesaler—and Pauly’s Plants was about forty miles west of Aerieville. Then again, as a truck driver, Bart could live anywhere. He could even work for more than one business. Either way, this was the first I’d ever heard my brother mention him.
“He’s been coming to Dumbbells for years,” said Rocky. “I worked with him as he was completing physical therapy after a car accident a while ago.”
Deena and I spoke in unison. “Car accident?”
“Did he cause it?” Deena asked darkly. A flicker of fear shone in her brown eyes.
“Maybe that’s why he’s so sensitive about bad drivers,” I speculated. That might explain his outsized anger at the professor.
Rocky played with his wine glass, which almost looked like a toy in his large hands. “I don’t know the details. I only know he had acute back and neck pain from his injuries, but he eventually recovered. He generally works out two to three times a week now, mainly on the free weights and leg press.”
I tried not to snicker. Hard core. “Why did you say he’s a hothead?” I asked.
Rocky shrugged. “It was probably the pain. I’ve just seen him snap at people and get worked up easily. I’ve seen him at Cuties’ Pool Hall too. He got kicked out once for starting a fight.”
“Ha, I was right,” said Deena. She nodded at me, then turned to Rocky. “Sierra thought Bart had some deep, dark secret, and I said he probably has a criminal past.”
“Well, I don’t think he was arrested,” said Rocky. “But you might have something there.”
“I’m gonna make sure Chief Bradley knows this next time I see her,” I said, “which could be tomorrow. She said she’d be back.”
Rocky finished his wine in one gulp and stood up. “I ought to go, sis. You need your sleep, and I’m sure Mom is waiting up for me. She’ll want to hear my report on your state of mind.”
Deena hopped up too. “I’ll walk out with you.” She grabbed her bag and patted my arm on her way to the door.
“What are you gonna tell Mom?” I asked. “I don’t want her to worry.”
“I’ll say you were unfazed,” said Rocky. “After all, this isn’t your first murder. You’re an old pro at it by now.”
“Terrific,” I muttered. I doubted that would reassure our mom very much. It certainly didn’t make me feel any better.
The dollhouse seemed extra quiet after Deena and Rocky left. As I got ready for bed, Gus followed me around as usual, but he was clearly sleepy. When I finally pulled the covers back on my full-sized feather bed, he jumped to his place on the foot and promptly closed his eyes. It had been a long day for both of us.
I wished I could fall asleep as easily. Instead, open questions looped in my mind like a merry-go-round. What was Lowry doing in the storeroom? Did someone lure him in there? And what was he doing in the bathroom for so long? Was he ill? What happened between the bathroom and the storeroom? And how did someone get him to turn his back? Surely he hadn’t seen the blow coming. From what I could tell, there was no indication that there had been a struggle.
As I finally drifted off to sleep, one more question surfaced from the abyss: Where was Professor Lowry’s canteen?