It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. When they did, he saw the gardener sitting behind a table with a deck of cards. Behind him hung several garden tools—rakes, shovels, pitchforks.
Zeyer looked around. Bags of lawn food and fertilizer were stacked against the wall to his left. The wall on the right was covered with charts and calendars. Some were hanging in front of a power lawn mower and a large trash can. One was a poster for a tractor company. It showed a green tractor among giant daisies. For flowers or forage, this is the one! the poster said.
Zeyer sniffed the air. The place smelled of dead grass.
“You find what you’re looking for?” the gardener said. He was dealing cards on the table. He didn’t look up as he spoke.
Zeyer walked to the bags of plant food and weed killer. He looked behind them, making sure they were alone. “Where is it?” he said.
The gardener scooped the cards into a stack and handed it to Zeyer. “You wanna pick a card?” he said.
“Do I want what?” Zeyer snarled.
The gardener spread the cards in his hand. “Go ahead. Pick a card. Any card.”
“Are you nuts? You know what I came for. Where is it?”
“I’ve been working on this trick for a week—”
Zeyer slapped the cards from the gardener’s hand. They flew through the air and onto the wooden floor. Zeyer’s other hand reached across the table and grabbed the man’s shirt. “You think you’re some kind of clown?” he said. “Well, you’ll be a dead clown unless you get me that ring.” He pushed the gardener back into his chair.
“Gonna do to me what you did to that woman?” the gardener said. He smoothed the front of his shirt. “The one you killed for the ring?”
“Is that what they think? That I did it to get the ring back?”
“Looked like that to me. Told you, I know diamonds and things. I’m out there the other day, look down, and there’s ten, fifteen thousand dollars at my feet. Ring like that, you don’t see every day. You didn’t come up here for what it’s worth, did you? You came for what it could prove. Somebody would know you bought it for her, I’ll bet. They found it, they’d be on you like mud on a hog, the cops. Where’d you get that kind of cash anyway?”
Zeyer leaned across the table, coming so close to the gardener that the other man stood and stepped back. “Just so you know, I could’ve bought ten of those rings. With cash, like I did that one. She said I couldn’t afford it. She bugged me so much that I walked in to buy it just to prove I could. And she’s not dead because of that ring. It’s because she ran off with some guy, used to be a cop. She came up here with him and bragged to me about it. Called me up and told me where she was, said she needed to see me. Wanted me to come up and take her away from the dumb ex-cop. Said she loved me, wanted me to marry her. Asked me to meet her at midnight out in them pine trees. And call her when I got there. I said sure and that we’d ride off later, back to Toronto. Got her all excited about the idea. I just wanted the ring back. And a chance to teach her not to fool around on me.”
“They say she drowned,” the gardener said in a low voice. He sounded sad. “They say she was beat up and then held under until she drowned.”
“You think I could let her go after smashing her face like I did? I dragged her into the lake so fast, she never had a chance to make a sound. Just a whole bunch of bubbles.” Zeyer seemed to realize where he was and what he was saying. He stood back and looked around the room again. “You ever have a woman get to you like that? I’ll bet you haven’t.” He looked at the gold band on the gardener’s left hand. “What’d you do? Marry some girl you knocked up in high school? Now you got a bunch of kids and a dead-end job? You can’t stand looking at each other, you and her? Is that what happened, loser?”
The gardener looked at the floor. “We don’t have children.”
“Good for you. Now give me the ring, or you won’t have a head either.”
“It’s outside.”
Zeyer looked this way and that. “What’s outside?”
“The ring. I’m not going to carry it around on me. I told you, my mother—”
“Yeah, she didn’t raise no dummies. Well, one of you better get out there and bring me that ring.” He began to walk around the table, his fists clenched.
The gardener reached behind him and seized a pitchfork. He aimed the sharp points at Zeyer and said, “Go get it yourself.”
Zeyer took a step back. He considered charging the other man, but the points were sharp. And rusty. Instead he said, “Tell me where it is.”
“There’s a wooden bin on the far side of the shed,” the gardener said. “Full of grass seed. It’s in the seed bin out there.” He waved his hand to the right. “Out there against the wall. You can feel the ring under the seed. In the top left corner. Get it and get outta here. I don’t want the ring, and I don’t want your money. Take it and go. Don’t ever come back, see?”
Zeyer almost smiled. “I don’t ever want to come back here for anything.” He walked to the door and turned around. “I got it right here, you know. The money, I mean.” He patted his jacket. “But if you don’t want it…” He shrugged, opened the door and stepped outside.
The garden was still empty. Good. He walked to the corner of the shed and turned to see a large wooden bin against the wall. Just as the loser had said.
Tall pines beside the building kept it in deep shade. The darkness felt cool after the hot sun. It would be good to sit there in the shade, maybe with a cold beer. But he wanted to get on his motorcycle and ride south in the sunshine. With the ring in his pocket.
He wouldn’t try to sell the ring after all. Too risky. He would dump it down a sewer somewhere. The loser was right. A piece like that could be traced back to him. Better to dump it. He would write off nearly fifteen thousand dollars to save his skin. But he could afford it. There was another deal coming down next week that would make him two, maybe three times that much money. How many guys could do that?
He walked to the bin and raised the wooden lid.
The bin was almost filled with grass seed. Holding the lid open with one hand, he reached in with his other to the top left corner. His fingers felt under the seed. There was nothing there. He pushed his hand deeper into the seeds. Still nothing.
Maybe it was in the other corner. He changed hands, using his right hand to look under the seeds, feeling beneath the surface. Nothing there either.
He swore aloud. He should have sent that fool out here to get it himself. He swung his right hand through the seeds in the bin. Now he wasn’t feeling beneath the surface. He was flinging seeds out of the bin in handfuls. There was no ring. When he dropped the lid, it landed with a loud thud.
He leaned on the bin to catch his breath and felt his anger rise. He had been taken. By a stupid gardener. One way or another, he would teach that fool a lesson, pitchfork or none. He wiped his hands on his jacket and began walking back to the shed, planning what he would do. There were shovels in that shed. He would grab one and use it. Zeyer had been in enough bar fights to handle himself with some skinny fool. The other guy would have no chance with a pitchfork this time. He would grab a shovel, throw it at the loser, and when he ducked…
Zeyer turned the corner of the shed, and there he was.
The gardener had a smile on his face and a pistol in one hand. In his other hand was a set of handcuffs. “Hi there,” he said. “Name’s Henry. This here’s my boss.” He tilted his head at a woman in a police uniform. She was also holding a pistol. “And that there’s the manager, Ms Rosart.” A tall woman in a gold jacket stood a few steps away, her arms folded.
“Martin Zeyer,” the woman in the police uniform said, “you are under arrest for the murder of Lana Jewel Laverne Parker. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
“You’re crazy,” Zeyer said.
The woman pulled a Taser from her belt. “You will be on the ground in pain unless you do it,” she said.
Zeyer turned around.
“You’re gonna be staying with us until the OPP comes for you,” Henry said. “Maybe for a couple of hours.” The cuffs snapped shut. “That’ll be long enough for me to show you a couple of card tricks.”