Before seeing me off, Granny supplied me with a special herb bag (a “protection sachet”) filled with salt, basil, bay leaf, and cinnamon. I could have used it to flavor a nice soup, but I didn’t dare question Granny’s wisdom—not when she’d been right about the good news bee, not to mention the death-harbinger bird. I thanked her for everything and promised I’d keep it with me always. And I meant it. Maybe herb bags were like Dumbo’s magic feather, just a symbol of the courage and power that come from within. But if it works, who cares?
By the time I reached Flower House, it was after two. The shop was quiet, but the lights were on. I found Calvin in the study updating our website. Deena was in the café lounging on the velvet couch with a magazine.
“Slow day?” I said, as I entered through the archway.
She set the magazine aside and swung her feet to the floor. “We had a couple online orders this morning. They’ve already been made and delivered.”
“Well, get ready to get busy, because we have a big one: a wedding!”
“A wedding?” Deena’s eyes lit up. Since working with me over the past few months, we’d had only one wedding. Felix hadn’t been known as a wedding florist. He could definitely do the job upon request, but he didn’t market himself that way. He’d had no binders of photos to showcase his bridal designs. Deena wanted to change that. She’d had so much fun with the one wedding we’d done, she’d been eager for another.
I smiled. “Yep. It’s for Nell Cusley’s niece, and it’s a rush job. The ceremony is this Saturday.”
Calvin came up behind me, with Gus at his heels. “Did I hear you say we have less than a week to prepare for a wedding?”
I turned to him and nodded. “Isn’t it exciting!”
“Shotgun wedding?” he said.
“Don’t know, don’t care. All I know is Nell wants the works: flower arch, aisle decorations, reception centerpieces, bouquets.”
Deena’s excited expression turned to worry. “This is going to be a huge challenge, isn’t it? Did you tell Nell we charge a premium for rush orders?”
“Uh, no. I probably should’ve, but we really need the job. And if she’s happy, she’ll talk us up to everyone she meets.”
“That’s true,” said Deena. “Free advertising!”
“That’s the spirit.”
We all three headed to the workroom to check on our inventory. I opened the large cooler and noted what peach and yellow flowers we had in stock, as well as any appropriate greenery and filler, such as baby’s breath. Deena started a list of everything we would need.
“Where’s the flower arch frame?” she asked.
“It’s…” I trailed off, as I walked over to the storeroom, still blocked off with yellow tape. “In there.”
“I don’t understand why the cops haven’t been back,” said Deena. “Are they going to leave the crime scene tape there until the murder is solved?”
“Good question. I’m going to ask.” I grabbed my cell phone from my purse and looked for the number for the Aerieville police station.
“Here,” said Calvin, taking a card from his pocket. “Bradley asked me to call her if I decided to change my story.”
“What?” I looked up at him to see if he was joking.
“Okay, maybe those weren’t her exact words,” he said. “But the sentiment was there.”
Shaking my head, I took the card and punched in the number. A receptionist answered, and, when I asked for Deputy Chief Bradley, she said she wasn’t available.
Thinking fast, I said, “This is Sierra Ravenswood from Flower House. There’s something here in the shop I need to show a police officer. It’s related to Professor Lowry’s murder.” I hung up with a smug smile. We’ll see if that doesn’t get a cop here ASAP.
In the meantime, I made a list of flowers I’d need to order from our wholesaler, starting with fully bloomed yellow ranunculus, aka buttercups. Normally, I’d place the order online, but this wasn’t a normal situation. Sitting at the desk in the study, I dialed the number for Pauly’s Plants. When an operator picked up, I explained that I was on a tight timetable and needed to base my order on the availability of flowers in a certain color scheme. She transferred me to Pauly himself.
A moment later, a booming voice came on the line. “Is that you Felix?”
“Uh, no. This is Sierra.”
“Oh, sorry about that. When I heard it was the owner of Flower House, my mind automatically traveled to the past. I remember now. Felix retired, right?”
“That’s right. And it’s okay. I’m still getting used to it myself. How are you, Pauly?”
“Can’t complain. Busy as usual. Wait—Flower House is in Aerieville. Didn’t I see you on the news recently?”
I winced. Here we go again. Oh, well. I couldn’t blame folks for their curiosity. I gamely gave Pauly the inside scoop. Then I said, “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it from your driver, Bart Hammerson.”
“Oh, yeah. Bart. Not a big talker, that one.”
“So, he’s always been that way?” It suddenly occurred to me that I might gather a little information while I had Pauly on the line. “Even before his wife died?”
“Died? You mean left him?”
Chill bumps tingled along my arms. Bart had told me his wife died. Why would he lie about something like that?
“Um, maybe I got that wrong. I was thinking of the accident?” I phrased it as a question, hoping Pauly would take the bait. Rocky had told me Bart had been in a serious accident a few years ago.
“Oh, yeah, the accident. Terrible, terrible thing.”
I couldn’t believe this was working. I decided to press my luck. “I know Bart doesn’t like to talk about it … for obvious reasons.”
“Of course not. He felt terrible. Blamed himself.”
“As would anyone,” I murmured, hoping it sounded appropriate.
“I figure that’s why his wife left him,” Pauly continued.
“Because of the accident,” I said, not really understanding at all.
“Well, the aftermath. With a paralyzed child, the strain was too much for their marriage to handle.”
“The accident left their child paralyzed?” I exclaimed. The news was like a blow to the gut, even if I didn’t really know Bart or his family. How awful.
There was silence on the other end of the line. Oops. I’d forgotten I was already supposed to know this. “I mean, I knew it was bad,” I said quickly. “But I’d forgotten how bad. This must be why Bart is so sensitive about reckless drivers.”
“Drunk drivers, in particular,” said Pauly. “Anyway, what can I help you with?”
I told Pauly what I was looking for, and he was kind enough to check his inventory while we were on the phone. After a brief discussion, I opted for yellow ranunculus and pink and yellow “sunset” dahlias. They were beautiful, romantic flowers with little fragrance—a plus if anyone in the wedding party suffered from allergies. Arranged with peach and pale pink roses from the hothouse, these would make up the focal flowers for the bridal bouquet, with loose greenery for an organic effect. I would base all the other arrangements on this design. For good measure, I also ordered some yellow and orange chrysanthemums for a pop of color, and green button chrysanthemums for contrast. Finally, I selected a bunch of hardy foliage for the base of the arch and the other decorations.
After Pauly confirmed he could provide the flowers in time, he said he just needed to find an available driver.
“Isn’t Bart available?” I asked. “I actually just saw him yesterday.”
“He has another run tomorrow, but I think he can get to you by Thursday. Will that work?”
“Yes, we’ll make it work.” That would essentially give us one day to make all the arrangements. I fanned myself with a piece of paper, as my nerves started to kick in. “The earlier Thursday the better.”
I heard typing sounds on the other end of the line. “It can’t be too early. He has a delivery to make to the college in Knoxville first. But I can tell him to bypass the florists between there and Aerieville and get to them on his way back.”
“That would be great. Thank you.” I was so focused on getting the wedding flowers in time, I almost missed what Pauly had said. As soon as it registered, I sat up straight. “Wait, did you say Bart makes a delivery to a college? Is it the University of Tennessee, by chance?”
“Sure is. I’ve been supplying UT for a few years now.”
“For their gift shop? Or the hospital?” I couldn’t understand why a university would order flowers from a wholesaler—unless they liked to have really pretty offices and common areas.
“It’s for the science department,” said Pauly. “Every semester, they need about a hundred perfect specimens, usually lilies. It’s for dissection and other experiments.”
“Oh. Interesting. Who knew?” I thanked Pauly again and hung up, lost in thought. Who knew, indeed?
Before I had a chance to ask Calvin about flower deliveries to the UT science department, there was a knock at the front door. It was a dark-haired uniformed officer, Patrolman Davy Wills. He was the officer who’d helped maintain order during the interrogations and spoke to Sheila when she first arrived. I sort of knew him in passing. He’d been in Rocky’s class in high school.
He removed his hat, revealing a fresh buzz cut. “Hi, Sierra,” he said. “I heard you have some information to share?”
“Yeah, a couple of things. Come on in.”
I led Davy through the shop to the kitchen, where Deena was washing out some flower buckets in the sink. Calvin had disappeared.
“Hello,” said Deena, over her shoulder.
“I want to show you something outside,” I said to Davy. “But, first, do you know when this tape can be removed? We really need to get in there.” I pointed to the yellow tape across the storeroom door.
Officer Wills frowned. “Uh, we finished processing the scene the same day as the crime. I’m pretty sure forensics completed their work in there.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“I’ll double-check, but I’m pretty sure the tape can come down.” He pulled a radio from his belt and walked into the hallway as he spoke into it.
Deena and I exchanged a look. A minute later, Davy came back and pulled the yellow tape from the wall. He wadded it up and tossed it in the garbage can.
“Okay, what else?” he said.
I put my hands on my hips. “You mean I didn’t even need to close the shop?”
He looked slightly sheepish. “This isn’t really my case, but I think it’s okay if you want to open up. And I can pass along any information and comments you have.” He pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped to a clean page. “You wanted to show me something?”
I sighed. “Follow me.” I grabbed my purse from the counter and led the way out the back door and around the corner. After being in the air-conditioned shop, even for a few minutes, the humidity outside seemed oppressive. I pushed my hair behind my ears and walked up to the juniper bush beneath the bathroom window. “There was part of a footprint there on Sunday morning.” I pointed to the mud, which was now smooth following the subsequent rainfall.
“Oh-kay,” said Davy, drawing the word out.
“Calvin took a picture of it. Also, I found this.” I took the small Made in the U.S.A. sticker from my purse and handed it to the officer.
He scratched his head and frowned. “Where did you find it?”
I pointed to the bush. “In there.” I explained how Professor Lowry had come in with a canteen, which somehow seemed to have disappeared. I also told him about the open bathroom window and my theory that the canteen might have been tossed into the bushes.
The expression on Davy’s face morphed from deepening confusion to something like worry. “Oh, no,” he muttered.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Uh, I have evidence bags in the trunk of my car. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said, tagging along. “Why did you say ‘oh, no’?” I was a little miffed that the police hadn’t bothered to come back to Flower House after my first call about the footprint, or to tell me anything about the investigation. Evidently, I was going to have to start being a squeakier wheel.
Davy didn’t answer me. When we reached his patrol car, he opened the trunk and retrieved a small clear plastic evidence bag. He placed the sticker inside, then used a pen from his pocket to scrawl today’s date on the bag.
“Speaking of evidence,” I said, “did you get anything from the candlestick? Any fingerprints?”
“No. We think the offender wore gloves.”
“Gloves?” This surprised me. I’d thought the killer might have wiped the candlestick down, but, now that I thought about it, that would take extra time. Still, who would be carrying gloves in the middle of summer? I said as much to Officer Wills.
Before he could answer, I noticed Flo Morrison emerge from the bakery next door. She looked our way and made a move as if she’d come over. Avoiding her eyes, I turned back toward Flower House.
“Uh, there’s one more thing,” I said. “Let’s go back inside.”
“Alright.” He closed his trunk and followed me as I scurried up the walkway. Once inside, he waited patiently for me to continue.
I gestured to the café. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea or water?”
“No, thanks.” He pulled out his notebook again.
“Right. Okay.” I went into the café anyway and pulled out a chair from one of the small tables. “This is where Bart was sitting when the UT van pulled up, and again later after the students and professor came inside. But he wasn’t in here by the time half the students left, and I didn’t see where he went. I don’t think he has an alibi for the time of the murder. Does he?”
Davy wiped his mouth with his hand, apparently trying to hide a smile. He snapped his notebook shut. “Sierra, I can’t give you details on our investigation. Besides, like I said, I’m not the lead on the case.”
“I know. But—oh, about the gloves! I didn’t see anyone wearing gloves. It’s not exactly glove weather.”
“I didn’t say anything about winter gloves,” he said. “There are other kinds.”
At the sound of footsteps, we both looked over to see Calvin come into the room. He was carrying a fern he’d repotted in the greenhouse. He stopped short when he saw us.
“There are gardening gloves, for example,” said Davy, with a pointed glance at Calvin.
Calvin swallowed, then gave us a nod and placed the plant on an antique table in the corner of the room. He wasn’t wearing gardening gloves, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so.
“There are work gloves too,” I said quickly. “I bet Bart had gloves in his truck.”
Davy turned to me with raised eyebrows. “Do you have anything else to report, or are we done here?”
Calvin cleared his throat and addressed me. “I’ll be in the greenhouse if you need me. Deena is in the garden, and Gus is in the office with the door closed.”
“Thanks,” I said. As soon as he left, I faced Officer Wills again. “I’m still concerned about that canteen. The investigators didn’t find it, did they?”
He wrinkled his brow. “I don’t think so. To tell you the truth, I’m concerned too.”
“Why? Do you think the professor was under the influence?” I hesitated to repeat what Calvin had told me about Lowry appearing flushed and unusually relaxed. I didn’t want to get Calvin in trouble for holding back information, even though he hadn’t done so on purpose.
Davy rubbed his forehead and looked out the window. As if talking to himself, he said, “If we’d known there was a canteen, then the Deputy might’ve changed her mind and ordered an autopsy.”
“Wait. There’s not going to be an autopsy?”
Davy shook his head and scowled briefly. “The medical examiner ruled the cause of death blunt force trauma. So, Bradley thought there was no need to order an autopsy.”
I didn’t know much about police investigations, but that sounded wrong to me. I thought all murders warranted an autopsy. “Well, it’s not too late, is it?”
“I’m not sure.” He looked at me and lowered his voice. “Look, you didn’t hear this from me, okay? Deputy Chief Bradley is a good officer. But she’s under a lot of pressure to solve this case as fast as possible.”
“I get it,” I said. But that didn’t mean I liked it.
“So, if you have any other information you think might be relevant, please don’t hold back.”
I opened my mouth but no words came out. The only “information” I had so far was overheard snippets of conversation, hearsay, and conjecture. At last, I said, “There’s one thing, but I don’t know if it’s relevant. I learned that Bart has made flower deliveries to the UT Science Department. I don’t know if that means he ever met Lowry before, but it’s possible.”
Davy wrote down the info. “Anything else?”
I bit my lip. Should I go on? Oh, well, I had nothing to lose, while Calvin had plenty to lose if we couldn’t help the police find the real killer. “I think there’s something weird going on with the students. I’ve run into them a couple of times, and it seems like they’re, um, not unhappy their professor is gone.”
Davy looked dubious but made another note. “That it?”
I hesitated. Was that it? I felt like I was forgetting something, but the only thing I knew for sure I was holding back was the stuff about Wanda. And I didn’t want to bring it up. It felt too much like gossip to mention her past or comment on her confusion. Besides, now that I knew Bart had lied to me about his wife, I wasn’t sure if I could trust anything he’d told me—least of all his claim that he’d seen Wanda come out of the house but didn’t want to tell the police.
“That’s it,” I said.
“Great.” Davy shut his notebook and stuffed it into his pocket.
I walked him to the door. “Thanks, Davy. I mean, Officer Wills.”
He grinned, as he stepped outside. “Say hi to Rocky for me.”
“You bet.”
I closed the door behind him and pondered the two-sided sign swaying on its hook. It currently said the shop was Closed. I flipped it over to Open. It was late in the day, but there was almost an hour left until our usual six p.m. closing time. There was no reason now we couldn’t welcome potential walk-ins. That is, if anyone knew we were open for business.
I walked to the back of the shop and cracked the study door to check on Gus. He’d made himself comfortable on the upholstered chair in the corner and seemed content to remain there. He barely twitched an ear when I peeked at him. Smiling, I backed out and shut the door again. Let sleeping dogs snooze.
Deena was apparently still out back. On the kitchen counter was the list she’d started, of supplies we’d need for Sue Ellen’s wedding. I picked it up, then moved to the storeroom.
Okay, Sierra, I said to myself. You can do this. I opened the door, flipped on the light, and stepped inside. Looking around, I shuddered involuntarily. It was eerie being in the exact spot where a man had been brutally killed. Something about the enclosed space made it so much worse than it already was. I wanted nothing more than to get out of there as soon as possible.
Where is the wedding arch? The metal trellis frame came in multiple segments that could be assembled in various sizes. After a cursory sweep of the room, I spotted the stacked metal pieces on the top shelf in the back. I overturned a wooden crate to use as a stool and climbed on top. Careful not to lose my balance, I reached for the topmost sections in the pile.
A faint creak sounded behind me, but I didn’t look around. I figured Deena or Calvin must have come back inside. I was about to call for them to come and help me, when I heard another sound: the whoosh and click of the door closing.
“Hey!” I said, turning abruptly. I jumped off the crate and hurried to the door, only to find it wouldn’t open.
Someone had locked me in the storeroom.