Calvin brought us fast food for lunch, but I had no complaints. I was too distracted to think about food anyway. As Deena, Calvin, and I ate, I was preoccupied with thoughts of crazy killers taunting their victims with black roses, death threats … and home invasions. Or business invasions anyway.
“So much for your granny’s charms,” said Calvin, around a mouthful of French fries.
“What?” I hadn’t been listening before, but his last words caught my attention. “What about Granny’s charms?”
“The basil and wildflowers, or whatever. They didn’t work.”
“How do you know they didn’t work?” I said, feeling defensive.
Calvin looked confused. “Because of the break-in?”
“No one was hurt, were they? Maybe that’s because they did work. Maybe it would have been way worse without the charms.”
“Gee, I hadn’t thought of that.”
Deena followed our exchange with amusement. “Maybe you should invest in a security system,” she said. “Even one camera might have captured whoever ran amok in here.”
“That’s true,” I said, wondering how much such a thing would cost. “I need to start a to-do list. Or at least a list of things to look into if Flower House stays open.”
“You might want to start with a new window for the back door,” Calvin suggested. “And a new lock for the greenhouse.”
“That sounds like a good job for Richard,” said Deena. “He would probably appreciate the work, considering the drop in his handyman business.”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. I hadn’t told Deena about the police showing up at Richard’s home, and I didn’t feel like putting voice to it now—especially in front of Calvin. “I’ll call him later. Right now I need to make a phone call and start fulfilling flower orders.” I crumpled up my food wrapper and stood up from the table.
“I’m ready to help,” said Deena.
“And I need to get back to my plant-rescue mission in the greenhouse,” said Calvin.
I flashed a grateful smile to both of them, then grabbed my cell phone and stepped outside to stand on the front stoop. I had a notion to call Granny Mae.
I watched the clouds float by as I listened to the phone ring. Granny could easily be in her yard or on an errand.
“Hello!” Her warm voice crackled over the line. Instant comfort.
“Hi, Granny! It’s Sierra. How are you?”
“Fit as a second-hand fiddle. Sharp as a rusty nail.” She cackled merrily. “How are you, hon?”
“Better now that I’m talking to you.”
“You still having troubles at Flower House? Do you need me to come down there?”
I hesitated before answering. The last thing I wanted to do was worry Granny. “I think … I could just use some advice. There’s so much I don’t understand. Strange things have been happening. Folks are keeping secrets. Somebody’s after something, but I don’t know what…” I trailed off, not sure if I was making any sense.
“Do you still have that herb bag I gave you?”
“The herb bag? Oh, yeah. I left it under my pillow.”
“Well, that’s a good place for it at night, but you’re meant to keep it with you. Listen, what you need is some confidence.”
“I suppose that’s true. How am I gonna get that?” I thought it was a rhetorical question, but she had a ready answer.
“Here’s what you gotta do. Go out and collect a big handful of pine needles—the kind with a nice, sweet scent—and two or three magnolia petals. Get yourself a square of flannel and some red thread and tie up your gatherings nice and tight. Really squeeze ’em in to release the fragrance. Then put it in your pocket and don’t forget it’s there. See if that don’t make you feel better.”
“And that will give me confidence?”
“Confidence, good luck, good feelings. You’ll see.”
There was a magnolia tree at the end of the block and some pine trees in the park across the street. As soon as I got off the phone, I jogged down the sidewalk to do as she said.
Of course, I didn’t totally buy into Granny’s superstitions. But I had an epiphany as she was talking. Granny Mae’s lucky charms were not unlike the affirmations and other self-help tools I liked to use. They worked when folks believed they did. What you focus on grows.
I didn’t have a square of flannel or any red thread, but I did find a lint cloth in my purse. I placed my “gatherings” in the cloth and used the corners to tie a knot. It was a sweet-smelling little bundle. Inhaling deeply, I felt better already.
When I joined Deena in the kitchen, I was in a much perkier mood than before. And having her company turned out to be the icing on the cake. She brought a fun, light energy to the place—plus, she was a great assistant. She’d already laid out some flowers and supplies and begun prepping some of the vases.
We had a lot to do. In addition to Valerie’s bouquet order, we had eight others that had been placed by phone or online. Fortunately, thanks to Deena’s help, we finished much quicker than I anticipated—even with all the laughing and joking around we did in the process. The only problem, as I soon discovered, was that we were running low on certain flower varieties. With all the tulips I’d used in the past few days, there were only a handful left. And, after completing one very specific phone order, we were now completely out of hydrangeas.
“I could stop by the grocery store,” offered Deena. “Or check out the florists in nearby towns. I think Manny’s is pretty big.”
“No way,” I said, alarmed at the thought. “At least, not unless we’re absolutely desperate. I’ll just call our supplier and adjust next week’s standing order. In the meantime…” I trailed off as I finished tying a bow on a sweetheart bouquet. “I have another idea.”
“Oh?” said Deena. “What is it?”
“After we deliver these arrangements, we should drive out to Ranker’s Garden Center. They may have some flowers in their hothouse that we can use.”
“Good thinking,” said Deena, her mouth twitching into a wry grin.
“We can talk to folks while we’re there. Chat up the employees. Who knows what we might learn?”
Ranker’s Garden Center was on the edge of town, just off Rural Route One between an apple orchard and a dairy farm. By the time Deena and I arrived, it was already late afternoon, and there were only two other cars in the customer parking lot. We climbed out of the Fiat and headed directly to the greenhouse, bypassing a small clapboard building that housed the garden center’s business office. Barrel planters filled with spring annuals stood at the entrance to the greenhouse. We went inside, and I inhaled deeply, relishing the damp, earthy scent of growing plants.
Compared to the greenhouse at Flower House, this one was huge. Picking a row at random, we strolled around and took it all in. There were trees and shrubs in plastic containers, houseplants in a multitude of varieties, hanging flower baskets, and trays of herb and vegetable starters. One corner featured outdoor statuary, birdbaths, fire pits, and even a bubbling stone fountain. I gravitated toward a small garden gnome with a jaunty red hat and a mischievous grin.
“I’ve always wanted one of these,” I said, weighing it in my hands.
“Cute,” said Deena. “But shouldn’t we be looking for flowers?”
“Yep. You’re right.” I replaced the gnome and patted its head. “Maybe another time, buddy.”
“These are pretty,” said Deena, pointing to a colorful bush of pale pink peonies.
“They’re beautiful,” I agreed. “But they’re already at the end of their blooming cycle. We should focus on flowers that will last longer.”
We wandered up and down a row of flowering plants, pausing to smell sweet lilacs and fragrant hyacinths. As a flower arranger, I was tempted by so many lovely blossoms, from vibrant red poppies to soft, delicate pink azaleas, imagining how I’d showcase them to maximum effect. In the end, I limited myself to a large, potted hydrangea plant, which boasted more than a dozen blue-petaled heads. I picked it up in both arms, and we proceeded to the customer service counter along the back wall of the greenhouse.
The guy behind the counter was tall and lanky, with a mop of hair in need of a trim. He looked young to me, probably in his early twenties. According to the tag on his shirt, his name was Jeffery. As soon as he finished helping the customer ahead of us, I set my plant on the counter and flashed my most dazzling smile. Jeffery barely looked up.
“Find everything okay?” he asked, as he scanned the tag on the hydrangea.
“Yes. Thanks.” I cleared my throat and rested my clasped hands on the counter. “I was sorry to hear about Abe,” I said.
“Thanks. That’ll be seventy-two oh-three.”
“Yikes,” I muttered, pulling out my credit card. “Have you worked here long?”
“About a year.”
I glanced at Deena, who was regarding me with a mixture of encouragement and curiosity. I, too, wondered what I would say next. As I paid for the hydrangea (promising myself I’d heed my mother’s advice and ask Byron to reimburse me), I cast about for a conversation starter.
“Um … oh! So, I actually work at a greenhouse too. It’s much smaller than this one, though.”
He smiled politely, but didn’t ask me where I worked. Apparently, I didn’t interest him in the least. Undaunted, I chattered on.
“As a matter of fact, one of my coworkers used to work here. Jim Lomack? You probably didn’t know him. It was a long time ago.”
“No. I don’t recognize the name.” Jeffery handed me my receipt. “Ben probably knew him, though. He’s worked here forever.” He nodded in a direction behind us, and we turned to see a white-haired man, with matching mustache, training a garden hose on a cluster of containerized saplings. Water streamed from the container bottoms toward a drain in the concrete floor.
“Abe always told him to do that in the morning, before we open,” said Jeffery. “But Ben has his own way of doing things.”
“Let’s go say hello,” I said to Deena. Leaving the plant on the counter, we walked over to the older man.
He looked up and smiled pleasantly. “How can I help you?”
“We just wanted to offer our condolences,” I said, “on the loss of your boss, Abe.”
“That’s nice of you,” said Ben, with a slightly bemused expression.
“I think we have some mutual acquaintances,” I continued. “We work at Flower House.”
“Ah!” he said, brightening. “Give my regards to Felix. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
I gathered that Ben wasn’t one to keep up on Aerieville gossip. All the better.
“Felix recently retired,” I said. “Jim Lomack too.”
“Well, good for them! I hope they found something to occupy their time. I don’t think I’ll ever retire. If I’m lucky, I’ll die right here among the green leaves and dirt.”
“Hopefully, no time soon!” said Deena.
I smiled, thinking how nice it was to see somebody doing a job they actually enjoyed.
“So, Ben, we’re actually trying to gather some information about Abe,” I said, being purposefully vague. “If it’s not too difficult, would you mind sharing your impressions of him? I know not everyone got along with him, but I figure you must have, since you worked for him for so long.”
Ben walked over to the faucet on the wall and turned off the water. “I don’t mind. I got along with Abe, because I learned how to ignore him. He could be irritating for sure, but he mostly left me alone. He needed me here, especially when Jim left to go work for Felix.”
Thrilled that we found someone willing to talk, Deena and I urged Ben to go on. He shared a few stories about times he and Abe had butted heads—and how Ben had always come out on top. I assumed his tales included a fair amount of embellishment, but there wasn’t a trace of ire in the telling. Ben apparently harbored no ill will against his late boss.
“I don’t suppose he’d fired anyone recently,” I said, trying to ferret out any enemies I might not be aware of. Some small part of me still hoped the murderer would turn out to be someone I didn’t personally know.
“Nah, not in quite a while. In fact, it seems we’re constantly short-staffed—between kids going back to school or losing interest and old-timers passing away.”
His last comment made me think of Richard’s mother. “Did you know Mrs. Wales?”
“Of course. Barbra Wales was the sweetest lady. She had a greener thumb than me, and that’s saying something.”
“We know her son, Richard,” said Deena.
Ben nodded. “Oh, sure. Richie. He’s a regular. Just saw him last week. He and Abe were arguing about something.” Ben chuckled at the memory. “Abe was always arguing with somebody. I think he liked to be contrary just for the fun of it.”
Deena and I exchanged a glance. “Do you know what they were arguing about?” I asked.
“I couldn’t say. Truth is, I don’t always have my hearing aids turned on.” He tugged on one of his earlobes and winked. “Used to drive Abe batty.”
“Do you know Bill and Flo Morrison?” asked Deena. “I’m wondering if Abe argued with them too.”
“Sure. I have a passing acquaintance with the Morrisons. Haven’t seen them here in ages, though.”
“What about Valerie Light or Letty Maron?” I asked.
Ben shook his head. “I don’t think so. There was a Maron who worked here once. Trent Maron.”
“That’s Letty’s son. I think he worked at Flower House too,” I said, recalling the old employee list I’d found.
“He worked here for such a short time, I’m surprised I remember him,” said Ben. “Like I said, the younger kids don’t stick around long.”
Jeffery called out to Ben and asked him to help another customer with her purchase.
“Nice gabbing with you, ladies,” said Ben. “You were more fun to talk to than the police investigators. You listened to my stories.”
“It was nice meeting you,” said Deena.
I thanked Ben, and we returned to the back counter to retrieve the hydrangea bush. On our way out to the car, we were each lost in our own thoughts. Hearing Ben speak about his former boss with such amused tolerance made Abe seem less unpleasant than I’d previously thought. Felix must have liked Abe, too, I realized. At least enough to trust him to take care of Gus.
Deena took the hydrangea from me, so I could open the hatchback and clear out a space. As soon as the plant was safely stowed in the car, I moved toward the driver’s side door. But I paused before opening it. Ben and a middle-aged woman were walking our way, he wheeling a dolly holding a small tree. I waited as he placed the tree in the back of the woman’s truck.
“Did you want to talk to Ben some more?” asked Deena.
“I do have one more question,” I said. As soon as the woman climbed into her truck, I waved at Ben and walked over to him, with Deena at my heels.
“Hi again,” I said. “I was just curious. Did Abe have any pets?”
“Not in many years,” said Ben. “He used to breed beagles, but he gave that up about seven or eight years ago.”
“Ah, that explains it,” I said. “Felix was going to ask Abe to take care of his dog. He must have known Abe would have the space and equipment.”
“Could be,” said Ben. “There’s probably still a kennel in the barn. There might be some wire crates or cages too.” He gestured to an old pole barn adjacent to the greenhouse. A winding driveway led from the barn to a brick farmhouse in the rear.
“Is that where Abe lived?” I pointed toward the house.
“Yep. A lot of house for a single guy, if you ask me.”
“We spoke with his sister, um—”
“Bette,” supplied Deena.
“Right. Bette was telling us how she’ll be back in a few weeks to go through Abe’s things. I might be interested in the dog supplies.”
“They’ll probably have an auction,” Ben said. “You should come back and bid on ’em.”
“Yeah, maybe. I wonder … Do you think it would be alright if we peeked in the barn? Just to see what’s in there?”
Ben shrugged. “It’s alright by me. I think it’s unlocked.”
Deena shot me a look of surprise. As soon as Ben was out of earshot, she turned on me. “What do you expect to find in the barn—besides dirt and spiders?”
“I don’t know. But let’s hurry before anyone decides to stop us.”
I walked quickly up the driveway, with Deena at my side. In truth, I was more interested in Abe’s house. Between the barn and a line of fat pine trees in the side yard, the view from the garden center to the house was conveniently obscured.
As it turned out, the interior of the barn wasn’t very dirty at all. One side contained an organized collection of gardening tools and industrial shelves bearing bags of growing medium and fertilizer. The other side resembled a stable, with stalls that had evidently been used as a dog kennel at one time. The space was now used to park a riding lawn mower and a four-wheeler.
After a quick look around, I turned my attention to the house. Deena followed my gaze. “Bill and Flo seemed to think Abe had something they want,” she said, putting voice to my thoughts.
“Shall we take a peek?”
With a casual attitude—and frequent glances toward the garden center and road—we circled Abe’s house. As might be expected from a professional landscaper, the home was surrounded by ornamental grasses, manicured shrubs, and a path of river rock leading to a wrought-iron bench beneath a willow tree. While Deena played lookout, I ran up to each door just to give the knobs a jiggle. I didn’t really expect them to be unlocked, and they weren’t.
Rejoining Deena under the trees in the side yard, I shook my head. “No luck.”
“I don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock,” she whispered.
“Why, Deena Lee! I declare.” I touched my chest in mock surprise. “I never took you for a law breaker.”
She tilted her head at me and scowled. “This was your idea in the first place,” she hissed. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“What?” I said, no longer joking. “You and I are in the exact same position. We both witnessed Abe’s death, and we both want to know who did it and why.”
“We are not in the same position,” she argued. “You’re the one in charge of Flower House, and you’ve been taking the lead on all this investigation stuff.”
“You said you wanted to help!” I could feel my face getting hot. Why was Deena turning on me like this?
Deena rolled her eyes. “This is crazy. We’re sneaking around like a couple of kids, and we don’t even know what we’re doing. We should leave this case to the professionals.”
“Fine,” I said shortly. “If that’s—”
I broke off at the sound of a car rumbling up Rural Route One. As one, Deena and I dropped to the ground and ducked behind a lilac bush. We stared at each other with wide eyes, listening as the car seemed to slow down. Would it turn into the lane leading to Abe’s house? My mind immediately started formulating excuses for why we were crouching next to Abe’s house instead of looking in the barn.
The car kept going without turning in. I breathed a sigh of relief, and Deena stood up shakily. “Craziness,” she muttered.
But I didn’t stand up right away. Something had caught my eye. From my vantage near the ground, I had a good view of a basement window. And the window was open.