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Eden smoothed the whipped cream over the top of the lime basil pie she’d just taken out of the fridge. The cream had turned out a little runny, but it had turned out all right. Yolanda had given her the idea. Eden had thought taking a plate of goodies to your neighbors was the stuff television shows were made of. But then, this neighborhood was the stuff television shows were made of. If you watched really weird stuff.
The hard part was working the basil into the kind of light dish you’d drop at a neighbor’s house. Whatever she brought to Beverly had to have basil. Eden wanted to see her reaction when she mentioned that she knew Beverly had been picking it in Mrs. Thorne’s yard the other night.
Thank heaven for Gabi, who’d pulled an intriguing pie recipe from the internet. It was a little out of the ordinary, but the ingredients had smelled delicious when she’d mixed them together the night before. Eden had never had much time for baking, but she’d found it to be surprisingly calming, considering she was making it for a murder suspect. It was especially fun to make something that combined herbs with fruit in such an unusual way. She made a mental note to plant basil in her own garden next spring.
Eden carried the pie tin out the door and headed diagonally across the street to Beverly’s.
“Good evening, Eden.” Beverly’s voice was polite but crisp as she hovered in her doorway. Still, Eden couldn’t help but notice she looked slightly drained. Probably manipulating a common flower into doing your evil bidding took it out of a person.
“I wanted to thank you for your ... friendly welcome. Everyone’s been so wonderful,” Eden said, holding the pie out.
“We’re so glad to have you with us,” Beverly said, taking it from her hands. “What is this?”
“It’s a lime basil pie. I didn’t get a chance to taste it, but it smells delicious.” Eden smiled, her brows raised, as if she were hopeful for an invitation. On the inside, her stomach was churning at the thought. If Beverly was a killer, did she really want to go inside and try to get a confession out of her?
Maybe not a confession. A strong woman like Beverly could probably resist Eden’s inheritance if she tried hard enough. But anything that could build Eden’s case would be helpful.
Beverly furrowed her brow, as if she were confused. “That certainly is unusual. What gave you the idea to combine those particular ingredients?”
Eden tipped her head. “Oh. I thought you had a thing for basil. I saw you out there clipping it in Martha’s yard the night before ... you know.”
Beverly’s eyes widened, and she straightened to her full height. “I certainly was not. I was simply—simply removing a noxious weed I noticed in her backyard. It’s illegal not to remove a noxious weed from your property, you know, and thistles are the worst.”
“Oh, well, if you don’t like basil, I can take the pie to someone else.”
A smile suddenly spread over Beverly’s face. The effect was mildly terrifying. “Oh, no. The pie looks delightful. I thank you for bringing it over. Have a good evening, Eden.”
Beverly closed the door, leaving Eden alone in the twilight with an even stronger conviction that Beverly Ackleton was definitely hiding something.
“That went well,” Gabi said.
“I found out all I needed to know.”
“According to her speech patterns, I’d say she was lying.”
“You should have seen her face. She was definitely lying.” Having someone lie to her face was a rare experience for Eden. For Beverly to do it over something as simple as a common herb made Eden all the more certain she was guilty.
Eden went into her house to grab a blanket and her large, comfy camp chair. Then she settled in on her porch to spy on Martha’s morning glory vine. Perhaps she was unnerved from Beverly’s icy stare, still fresh in her mind, but she could have sworn the plant was watching her too. Eden shifted in her chair, and it perked up. Then a bloom or two peeked open, and the vine slumped again, as if it were dying of thirst.
Eden felt a surge of pity for the flower. It wasn’t fair. It had lost its mother, and now it was all alone, and in danger of losing its life. It wasn’t the plant’s fault someone was using it for evil. Eden couldn’t help thinking that if she were going to create a monster to knock off anyone who crossed her, she’d make one that couldn’t be so easily killed. Then again, no one had tried yet. She was surprised she’d been able to hold the neighbors off this long. Maybe everyone preferred to keep their distance and was waiting for someone else to do it. She didn’t blame them. She’d seen the thing in action.
Eden’s head began to nod as she watched. It was harder than she’d thought to stare at something for hours, and it had been a busy week, with all the attacks and the sleuthing.
“Tired already?” Gabi asked. “It’s only been two hours and twelve minutes.”
“I wonder how well you’d do without your charger.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Mmhmm. If I do fall asleep, will you let me know if anything exciting happens?”
“Sure,” Gabi said. “If the sprinklers turn on or someone takes a late walk, I’ll be sure to alert you.”
“You’re a sarcastic phone. Hey, Gabi, that Jeep wasn’t there earlier, was it?” Eden stared at a black Jeep parked in front of Clixie’s house that she was sure hadn’t been there before.
“It arrived when you went in for your chair.”
“Two hours ago? Isn’t that Jack’s Jeep?”
“Yes, and the fact that you didn’t notice it makes you a pretty lousy neighborhood watch. Good thing you have me.”
“Yeah, only you neglected to tell me.”
“That’s because I knew you wouldn’t like it.”
Eden stood up, walking down the steps to get a better look. Her eyes widened. “He’s been sitting inside all this time?”
The door opened, and Jack stepped out under the street light. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, giving Eden a sheepish look.
“Were you worried I couldn’t babysit a plant?” she asked, as if the plant in question were of the ordinary, non-murderous variety.
“No, I just—” he walked down the sidewalk, stopping when he neared the end of her walkway.
“Just what? You know, even if I fall asleep, my friend here never gets tired.” She pointed at Gabi.
His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“He was worried about you, moron,” Gabi said at full volume.
Jack scratched the back of his neck and nodded.
“Oh,” Eden said.
Jack stood there as if he were waiting for her to say something more. Her grandmother would have told her to invite him in, or offer him a refreshment of some kind. It wasn’t as if she could do the former. The entire house might fall down on the both of them, for all she knew. “You want some cake?” she asked finally.
“Okay.”
Eden went inside and cut two pieces out of the caramel apple cake. She poured two glasses of milk, all the while cursing herself, and her grandmother, under her breath. Why had she offered him cake? Now she was going to have to talk to him.
She should have run Jack off for thinking she was too defenseless to spend an evening staring at a plant. Sure, it was a plant that had attacked two women already, but she hadn’t forgotten to leave a pair of shears nearby.
Eden stepped outside, then stood hovering on the edge of the porch, wondering how to give Jack the cake.
He gave her an embarrassed grin. “How about I back down the sidewalk, and you leave it here for me?”
Eden nodded. As soon as Jack was far enough away she headed down the steps, placing the milk and cake on the sidewalk like she was feeding a stray cat.
As Eden settled back into her chair, Jack wandered back down the sidewalk and sat down at the end of her walk. He took a bite of cake. “That’s good.”
“Yolanda made it.”
“Didn’t know she baked.” He took another bite, then he mumbled something.
“What’s that?” Eden called. “It’s a little hard to hear you from here.”
“I said I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he called out. “Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”
“I’m not mad, I’m just—it’s better if you stay away, Jack.”
“I know,” he said, nodding slowly. Even with only the street lights to see by, his pale grey eyes were a snare, catching her off guard and holding her. “What if I can’t?” He broke out in a grin and looked away.
Eden felt an unwelcome flutter in her chest. “I’ve got more than one curse attached.”
“Okay, so I can’t come too close or one of us could die in a horrific accident,” Jack said. “What’s the other curse? You mean your inheritance?”
That was the simple answer, but it wasn’t the whole of it. Eden’s inheritance, long before she’d known what it was, had combined with other events in her life to make sure Eden would never find long-term happiness with another person. Cindy used to say that Eden never let anyone completely in the door, because she was so certain they were going to walk right back out again. Cindy was probably right, but in Eden’s experience, it had always been true.
Fine, there had been a few times she’d shoved someone out, but only because they really couldn’t be trusted, and they’d probably steal her good set of silverware, which was the only nice thing she owned and which her grandmother had passed on to her before she died. It was an analogy that had spiraled out of control, and Eden probably couldn’t explain it to Jack if she wanted to. Which she didn’t.
“Honesty is not always the best policy,” she said. “A lot of people in my life tell me things, and then they wish they hadn’t. It tends to be a relationship killer.”
“I see.”
She laughed. “I mean, if your girlfriend asked if her new jeans made her butt look big, and you said yes, how do you think that would end?”
“Ooh.” He scrunched up his face. “Is that an actual example?”
“No, just trying to lighten the mood. If I gave actual examples things would get pretty depressing.”
“For the record, I don’t have a girlfriend. But I see your point. It has to come in handy sometimes, though, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. I mean, when I asked my last boyfriend who was he texting and he said the hot waitress he met a month ago, it was a good indication that I should end the relationship.”
“Ouch. Sorry. I’ll shut my mouth.”
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to let this get depressing.”
“It’s okay. That’s the good thing about this place. Sure, it’s weird, but people understand. Of course they might just as soon put a curse on you, or sic a killer plant on you.” Jack took another bite, taking his time. His eyes narrowed, as if he were thinking. Finally he looked up. “I always wondered how he must have felt.”
“Your grandfather?”
“Yeah. He loved again. He married and had a family and all that, but he never got over her.”
“Same with my grandmother, I think. Of course she loved my grandfather, but I always got the feeling that she’d lost a piece of her, somewhere in her past, if that makes sense.”
“It does.” He stared at his fork, as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. His voice barely reached her. “She loved him enough to break his heart.”
Eden swallowed. Her grandmother had had to carry that burden her whole life, with no one to talk to about it. “And she never knew who cursed them. I wonder if that made it easier or harder.”
“Probably depends on who it was.”
“Hey, Jack, speaking of curses ...”
“Yeah?”
“I went to this shop in Omaha, Hoodoos. Apparently Martha was there last Friday.”
“And you just happened to find your way there by coincidence?”
“I may have followed a trail.”
Jack frowned, as if he didn’t like the idea.
“Martha bought some pretty weird stuff there. According to the helpful little hipster at the register, she was warding off a curse. I think Martha knew she was in danger.”
“You still think Bev’s behind it?”
“She seems the most likely culprit. And I know she’s hiding something. One thing’s for sure. If Martha knew someone was out to get her, her lovely morning glory vine didn’t attack her of its own accord. In fact, there’s probably no point in us sitting here staring at it. Our time would be better spent going after whoever sicced it on her, and making sure they never do it to anyone else.”
“That’s true,” Jack said, “But I still don’t feel good about leaving the sweet little thing unattended.”
“Then I’ll finish up my watch, as previously agreed upon.” Eden settled back into her chair, pulling her blanket tight around her.
“You go on inside. I’ll keep watch.”
“We agreed I’d take a turn.”
Jack shrugged, scooting over to sit on the grass.