Ryder came out from the office with his lunch bag. "I'm going across the street to have lunch with Lola. I can finish potting that basil when I get back."
I didn't look up from my order pad. "Have a nice lunch."
The romantic relationship between my marvelous assistant, Ryder, and my best friend, Lola, had not hit any of the usual bumps lately and as standby couple's therapist I was relieved. It seemed they had finally found their rhythm, and Ryder had come to love some of Lola's quirks, all traits that made her that much more lovable . . . most of the time, anyhow.
The bell tinkled lightly, slowly, as two elderly women, with heavy purses on their arms and glasses on the tips of their noses, pushed the front door. It was not a terribly heavy door but they struggled nonetheless.
I raced around the work island to give them a hand, which was when I noticed one was shuffling along behind a walker. The woman who shuffled in next to her, a hand at her elbow to help move her along, was slightly hunched and had pearl white hair. If I'd had to guess her age, I could confidently state that she had already celebrated her eightieth birthday. The woman with the walker was much tinier, shriveled, for lack of a better word. Her dark eyes had a filmy gray cast to them, but her skin was remarkably fresh and smooth.
"Welcome to Pink's Flowers. How can I help you?" I walked on the woman's other side, worried that my tile floor might prove too slick for her walker, but she managed to inch along without incident.
The woman with the pearl white hair spoke first. She stopped and adjusted her glasses as she looked me over with blue eyes. "You must be Lacey. My friend, Frida, told me I should go to Pink's Flowers and talk to Lacey, the owner. She said you'd be able to help us select flowers for Mary's birthday." She inclined her head toward the woman with the walker. "This is Mary and I'm Katherine, her daughter."
Mary's attention had been grabbed away by the large, black bird in the shop window. She didn't pay any attention to the conversation at hand.
"I can definitely help you with that." I glanced back at the stools in front of the work island and realized I was woefully unprepared for my two customers. I couldn't possibly expect either of them to hop up on a stool.
"I could bring some chairs out from my office so the two of you could sit down and look at catalogs."
Katherine looked at her mother. "Mom, would you like a chair?" she said loudly.
Mary ignored the question and turned back to me. "Why do you still have up your Halloween display?" Her voice was craggy and weak. She looked at her daughter. "Is it still October? I thought it was November. Why are we here? My birthday isn't until November."
"It is November, Mom, and your birthday is in ten days." Both women were talking loudly enough that it unsettled Kingston. He flew down from his perch and trotted across the floor to hide behind the work island.
Mary stared at him as he skittered across the floor, then she turned to her daughter. "I need my nap, Kat. I'm seeing things."
"No, Mom, you're' not. Unless I'm seeing things too." Katherine turned to me. "Frida told me you had a crow, but I must admit, I thought she was kidding with me."
"No, I'm afraid she wasn't. That was Kingston. He gets shy sometimes so he's hiding. He won't bother us. Now, how about the chairs?"
"Mom, did you want a chair?" Katherine asked loudly.
Mary shook her head. "No, I'll stand. Want to be ready in case that bird comes flying out of nowhere."
"Lacey says the bird won't bother us," Katherine said clearly and loudly like a teacher giving instructions.
"I don't need a chair. I want lilacs, lavender lilacs," Mary stated emphatically enough to slightly dislodge her top row of teeth. She pushed them back in." She looked at me for the first time since they'd walked inside. "Is this pretty girl the florist? I want lilacs. You should do something about that bird, chase him out with a broom or rake."
I decided to just stick with the flower topic. "I can order lilacs. Are these for table settings?" I turned to Katherine.
Katherine nodded. "Yes. We'll need ten centerpieces."
"I'm going to be ninety-five," Mary stated proudly.
"No, Mom, you're going to be a hundred and five."
I was sure I gasped a little but couldn't stop myself.
"That's impossible." Mary smacked the top of her walker. "No one lives past a hundred."
"Well, you managed it just fine, Mom." Katherine turned back to me with an apologetic smile. "She can be a little stubborn sometimes."
"I can hear, ya know?" Mary barked. "And you're the stubborn one. I want lilacs."
"Yes, Mom, we're getting lilacs." Katherine grinned again. "My father used to bring her lilacs every birthday."
"How wonderful," I said. "They are a lovely flower, and they make great centerpieces. I can spruce them up with some nice greenery. Should I order some white ones too or just the lavender?"
"Just the lavender," Mary blurted before Katherine could comment.
"Let me just get an order pad and we can write this up." I circled around to the back side of the island. Kingston had squeezed himself onto the second shelf, conveniently next to his treat can. It seemed he had decided that the two loud talking customers might just steal off with his goodies.
As I rummaged around for a working pen, Katherine continued talking.
"My mother has lived here, in Port Danby, her entire life. She used to help run the post office."
I finally found a pen that actually had ink, and I carried it along with my order pad to the side they were standing on. As I settled my paper down on the island a thought occurred to me. Mary must have known everyone in town if she worked for the post office. "Mary, did you know Harvard Price, the mayor?"
Mary squinted her cloudy eyes as if that might help her hear better. "Who?"
"Mayor Price, Mom. Harvard Price."
Mary released her white knuckled grip for one second to wave her hand. It was bone white with the exception of numerous brown age spots. "He was always angry. Always grumpy." She scrunched up her face to mimic his grumpiness. It was adorable. "Never liked the man. His son, Fielding, took over the mayor's office in 1935. I voted for Harris Bookman. Never liked the Prices."
My astonishment at her memory must have shown.
"My mom still has an incredible memory for details, especially things that happened long ago. Not so much for everyday things. This morning she came out of her room and forgot to put on her skirt."
"No I didn't," Mary snapped. "And stop talking about me as if I'm not standing right here. Like I'm dead or something."
Katherine rolled her eyes. "Fine, Mom. I won't talk about you until you are actually dead."
Mary curled her fingers around the handles on the walker. "You might go before me." There was a glint of humor in her overcast eyes.
I pressed my fingers against my lips to stifle a smile.
Katherine sighed. "She has not lost her sense of humor either. Now, about the lilacs. We need ten good sized arrangements. We've rented round tables with a six foot diameter, if that helps you."
"Yes it does." I wrote everything down. My mind was still not on work. I had someone standing in my shop, who had actually known Harvard Price. There were too many questions to ask but one stood out the most.
"Mary, I wonder, you mentioned Fielding Price, Harvard's son. Do you happen to know anything about Jane Price, Harvard's daughter?"
Mary pursed her mouth in thought. "Jane Price?"
"Yes, I believe she was his daughter from a previous marriage." I was giddy with anticipation.
Right then, Kingston trotted back out from behind the counter, stealing Mary's attention away from the Jane Price question. Darn bird. He marched with crow-like purpose to the door, signaling he needed to take a trip around the neighborhood.
"Excuse me," I said to the two women who were completely mesmerized by the crow at the door.
I hurried across to the door and pushed it open. Kingston stepped out into the bright sunlight and turned toward Elsie's bakery. It was his morning routine, clean up crumbs in Elsie's outdoor seating area, fly across to sit on Lola's roof, hoping to get a glimpse of his sweetheart, then it was off to the town square to see what the other birds were up to. He never got close to any of them and preferred to stay at a distance, observing and, most likely, judging. He was like the snooty odd ball in high school who'd decided he was too good to hang with the regular kids. Although, occasionally I'd catch him staring dreamily at a group of crows hanging out on the lawn, and it always made me worry that he might someday decide to take off with his kin. But he always returned and he always seemed to be relieved to be back on his perch nibbling on hard boiled eggs. (Something told me the lack of hard boiled eggs in nature was the deal breaker.)
Katherine laughed briefly as I headed back to the order pad.
"My goodness, he is just like a dog."
I smiled. "Yes, he is," I agreed, then smirked to myself thinking how much Kingston would hate to be compared to a dog. He really considered himself to be a much higher species than the rest of us inhabiting his space.
I finished writing up the order and had nearly forgotten about my earlier enthusiasm to find out more about Jane Price. But Mary hadn't forgotten.
"You should talk to Marty Tate, the lighthouse keeper," Mary spoke up in a creaky, soft tone.
Katherine looked at her with confusion. "Why on earth would Lacey need to talk to Marty?"
"Jane Price." Mary tapped her walker with frustration. "She was asking about Jane Price. You sure are forgetful." Mary turned to me. "Used to be such a scatterbrain when she was a little girl. She'd walk out of the house with two different shoes or sometimes forget them altogether."
Katherine tilted her head at her mother. "Well then, isn't it funny how history repeats itself? Only I wasn't the one who walked out without my skirt this morning, was I?"
"Told you, I didn't forget it. I just didn't want to wear it." It was entertaining to watch them spar. I momentarily wondered if I was looking fifty years into the future at my mom and me but then I worked to steer the conversation back to Jane Price.
"Do you think Marty would know about Jane Price?" I asked Mary.
"No, he's too young," Mary said confidently, and that seemed to be the disappointing end to my quest.
Katherine sighed loudly. "Sorry about that. We won't take up any more of your time."
"I'll get right on the computer to order the lilacs." I pulled the order form off the tablet.
"Marty's mother, Elizabeth, she knew everyone," Mary spoke up sharply. "She was the town busy body but always friendly. She used to give me butter shortbread whenever I stopped by to play with Marty. Like I said, she knew everyone. Maybe Marty will know if she was friends with Jane Price."
I couldn't contain my excitement. For well over two years, I'd been plodding along, looking for tidbits that might help me unfold the mystery around the turn of the century murder of the entire Hawksworth family. It seemed I had my first arrow pointing me in the right direction. Port Danby was a small town, and if what Mary said was true, that Marty's mother Elizabeth knew everybody, then it was entirely possible she knew Jane Price. And with any luck, Marty would know something too. No one was quite sure of Marty's age, but it seemed Mary had played with him as a child. I could only assume he was just over a hundred like Mary. He wouldn't have been alive when Jane Price left town, but maybe he knew something. My trails had all run dry lately, so any tiny sliver of knowledge would be thrilling. My intuition coupled with the evidence I'd uncovered thus far had me theorizing that Jane Price was somehow mixed up with the murder. I just wasn't sure how.
I held the door as my two customers shuffled out complaining to each other about whether or not it was cold enough for a sweater or a coat. It was a good start to the week, a pumpkin spice coffee, a nice birthday order and a helpful suggestion in the Hawksworth murder case. The only thing that might make this week better was an actual murder case. Of course, I wasn't hoping someone would get killed, but I had to admit things had been a bit boring around town lately. A good investigation could spark things up.