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After the quick drive by Harlan’s shop where everything looked okay from the outside, they made it to Fern Gery’s flower shop. A tattoo parlor lay around the corner, something Beverly hadn’t noticed on their first visit.
She pointed it out. “I guess you have to choose between getting your sweetie a bouquet of flowers or getting her name tattooed on your whatever.”
Adam replied, “Think I’d go with the flowers. That tattoo shop was hit up with prostitution charges a few years ago. They’ve tried to stay legit since, but we’re watching them.”
Fern greeted them warmly, but as she motioned them back to the same room as before, she asked if it would be okay if she continued working while talking. “The extra-long Christmas season may not be as big as Valentine’s Day, but it’s still busy. I’ve got a wedding tomorrow,” she motioned to a table of corsage picks and boutonniere lapel vases waiting for their red roses and carnations.
The irony of discussing failed relationships and possible sexual assaults in the shadow of wedding decorations wasn’t lost on Beverly. She looked at the flowers in the refrigerated cases and wished them luck.
Beverly had suggested on the way over that she take the lead in asking the questions due to the subject matter, and Adam reluctantly agreed. Although she should have let him take over since Fern seemed to be spending as much time studying Adam as she was her projects.
Beverly asked, “Fern, when we were at the bar, you said you overheard an argument between Wallace and Braddon Hopper about Hopper’s then-girlfriend, Jane Campen. Did you catch any snippets of it?”
“No words. But reading their body language, I’d say Braddon was accusing him of something, and Wally was on the defensive.”
Beverly chose her words carefully. “You said Wally didn’t get too aggressive with you, is that right?”
“Aggressive?” Fern stopped in mid-twist fashioning a carnation with florist tape. “You’re thinking Braddon believed Wally propositioned Jane Campen?”
“Make that ‘forcibly’ propositioned.”
“Rape? That’s preposterous. I never saw anything of the kind. And if he’d been like that, I would have known. This Campen woman must have an axe to grind. Sour grapes.”
“Another woman made the same claim.”
“You must be mistaken. Or she must be mistaken.” Fern started working on the carnation again, but she used so much force, the tape broke. With a sigh, she put down the flower. “Look, Wally was no saint. But with his OCD, he wouldn’t have risked rape.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sexually transmitted diseases. He’d have to make each woman get a lab test first. I can’t see a rapist asking his victim to do that and get back with him later.”
Adam spoke up, “He was never violent toward you?”
“We argued. But he was about as violent as a puppy.”
Adam continued to stare at her, and Fern folded her arms across her chest. “Wallace may have scared me once or twice, okay, but it was only when he got drunk.”
Adam added, “Then the reason you called off the engagement—”
“As I said before, it was mostly the OCD. A little more eccentricity than I was willing to put up with. I know that makes me sound shallow.”
Beverly asked, “Was he on meds for his OCD? Some of those have nasty side effects, like depression or aggression.” Beverly smiled to herself at Adam’s approving look at her question.
“He’d been on some years ago. But he stopped taking them.” Fern finished the boutonniere and held it up. “Red carnations and baby’s breath. I can’t tell you how many of these I’ve done. Just once, I’d love to see someone think outside the box. Take a walk on the wild side. Eucalyptus and tallow berries. Maybe some bavardia and dusty miller.”
Beverly pointed at a phalaenopsis orchid in the case. “Like that.”
Fern turned to look. “A purple girl? I’m a fan myself. Wally hated purple. I have no idea why.”
Adam asked, “Did you have any interactions with Braddon Hopper? Know him to be a liar? If he wanted to be Rapier Marshal so badly, he might have tried to sully Wallace’s reputation.”
Fern nodded. “I can see that. He was frosty toward Wally and me both.”
“Did he make any threats toward you?”
“He told me I wasn’t welcome at rehearsals. Not that I cared to go. Those people can be scary.”
“Scary?”
“As in a few drams shy of a full goblet, if you get my drift. Like that Joss Warder. Sorry, His Excellency, Richard Symonnet.”
“The park ranger?”
“Park ranger by day, fantasy geek by night. He and Wally liked to go drinking together.”
Adam asked, “Did you ever see them drunk together?”
“I’m not much of a drinker. The occasional beer, but that’s about it.”
Adam glanced at Beverly. “We can see you’re busy. Thanks for your time, Ms. Gery.”
Fern winked at him. “Please, it’s Fern. If you have any more questions, give me a call. Except between one and four o’clock tomorrow. The apocalypse could come calling, and I wouldn’t answer, thanks to this wedding.”
She added to Beverly, “I had fun chatting with you last evening. If you want to have another beer night, let me know.”
Adam waited until they were inside the car again to ask, “Did you buy any of that? About Wallace being a gentleman and the accusers having an axe to grind?”
“You’re asking me because of my shrewd insights and intellect? Or because I’m a woman?”
“Both.” He grinned at her.
“Braddon certainly did have an axe to grind. Or perhaps we should say sword. Which means Jane Campen could have, as well. Did you track her down for questioning?”
“Jinks is on it.”
“I think Fern is being honest when she says Wallace never abused her. She has none of the signs of a recent sexual assault victim.”
“Just how many sexual assault victims have you been around?”
Beverly didn’t answer and looked out the window.
“Beverly?”
She licked her lips and shrugged. “Enough.”
His voice softened, and he gently put his hand on her chin to turn her face toward him. “Are we talking about other people or about you?”
“All women experience unwanted sexual advances.”
“How unwanted and severe were these advances?”
“I haven’t seen him in years. It’s ancient history.”
Adam leaned against his seat and stared straight ahead. “He’d better not come around here, or I might kill him. Or Jinks will castrate him.”
He reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Thanks,” she said.
“For what?”
“For being the kind of guy who would say something like that. For knowing how to make me feel better.”
“Wait until you try my patented Guinness and jalapeño jack cheese omelet.”
“That’s unusual.”
“Tastier than it sounds. Unless you’re a vegan? I made a tofu spinach quiche for a vegan friend once.”
He seemed flustered, and it occurred to her they’d never had one real meal together yet. Despite him asking her for dinner—how many times was it now? She probably knew much more about him than he did her.
Adam said, “I should drop you off at the station to pick up your SUV.” He paused, then added, “I’d like to stop by my house first. I need to grab some files to take back to the office. It’ll be quick.”
Her heart beat faster at the thought of being anywhere near his house, but she forced herself to smile. “Whatever will help.”
Help with Harlan’s case, with Adam’s schedule, with life, the universe, or whatever. More than anything else, she was glad to be by this man’s side. She silenced her inner psychiatrist when it started to question what Beverly meant by that thought and sat back to enjoy the ride.
