It was a good idea, in theory. I thought I’d make tulip friendship bouquets for Valerie and Letty, then leave Gus with Calvin while I delivered them. I’d go chat up the women and find out what they really thought about Abe Ranker.
Of course, as was so often the case, things did not go quite as planned. When I arrived at Flower House, the sound of heavy furniture scraping on the floor overhead reminded me that Calvin was otherwise occupied. Was I a heel for not offering to help? My mother taught me to be helpful and hospitable, especially to newcomers, but I had bigger fish to fry. I’d have to make it up to him later.
For now, Gus would have to come along with me. After giving the pup a scoop of the dog food I’d brought from Felix’s house, we piled into my car and headed to Light Steps Dance Studio on Main Street. I didn’t know if dogs were allowed inside the studio—and, as it happened, after arriving, I still didn’t know. The place was closed. Just like Dumbbells, it shut down early on Sundays. I should have figured.
Strike two.
And then my stomach growled. It seemed like ages since my lunch with Granny. Seeing as how I couldn’t quite think straight on an empty stomach, I decided to go ahead and stop off at Mom and Dad’s for supper. Rocky was there, as he always was at dinnertime. It made sense, since he lived in the apartment above our parents’ garage. Considering how well he got along with Gus, I asked if he’d mind dog-sitting for an hour or so. He was happy to oblige.
“How ’bout a walk, pup?” asked Rocky, jangling the leash after supper. Gus bounded for the back door, as if to say I’m way ahead of you, buddy.
I laughed and followed them outside. “He’s a smart one. He knew exactly what you said.”
“Yeah, he is,” agreed Rocky. He let Gus lead the way, but stopped when we neared my car. “Hey, you sure you’re okay, sis? You were quieter than usual at dinner.”
“I’m okay. There’s a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
“I mean, you saw somebody die right in front of you. That’s harsh. I know I’d be upset.”
I offered up a reassuring smile. “It was pretty awful, but I’m trying not to dwell on it. In a way, Felix leaving provided the perfect distraction: extra work.”
Rocky shook his head, evidently not convinced. “I know you like to put a positive spin on everything, but is it realistic to think you can run the shop by yourself?”
“Come on!” I gave him a playful punch on the arm. “Don’t be like Mom and Dad. Besides, I’m not by myself. I have Jim and Francie. And now Calvin, who offered to help out around the shop. He’s good with dogs too.” I let my gaze drift to the sky, where the first stars winked into view like twinkle lights. “The Universe seeks balance,” I said, half to myself. “Felix left, and Calvin arrived.”
“Wait a minute,” said Rocky, his tone full of suspicion. “Who is this Calvin person, again?”
“He’s new in town. He’s renting the apartment above the flower shop. Felix forgot to tell me he was coming—big surprise, huh? But it’s perfect. Calvin even knows a thing or two about plants. You might say it’s kismet.”
“Nobody would say ‘it’s kismet.’ What does that even mean?”
“Fate, then. A lucky coincidence. Serendipity.”
I was smiling, but Rocky’s expression of concern made me check myself.
“What?” I said, a touch defensively.
“Serendipity? Wasn’t that your Nashville theme song? Tell me this isn’t going to be a repeat of the Josh situation.”
“No way,” I said quickly. “Never again.”
Rocky continued to regard me with a mixture of doubt and worry. I couldn’t really blame him. After all, I did write a song called “Serendipity,” right after I moved to Nashville. Everything had fallen into place for me, as if the stars were aligned.
It didn’t start out that way. I was two years into college, at Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro, and couldn’t decide on a major. My future seemed bleak, until a friend and I took a weekend trip to Nashville. Then it was love at first sight. The place was so vibrant, so full of friendly folks and music on every corner. Practically the minute I returned home I was packing my bags for good. It was adios college life, hello Music City.
Of course, Mom and Dad were none too thrilled. But they couldn’t stay mad after I landed a starring role as Calamity Jane at one of Nashville’s most respected old theaters outside the Grand Ol’ Opry. (Okay, way outside.) The pay was decent, and the experience was gold. Plus, I still had time to strum for tips at a coffee shop and cultivate an active social life.
Then I met Josh. He was a part-time stagehand, whose real ambition was to be a playwright. He was moody and emotional, dreamy and passionate. I thought he was my soulmate. I gave him my heart, my time—and a good chunk of my money. Then I caught him cheating. And that was the beginning of the end of my stint in Nashville.
“Don’t worry,” I said to Rocky. “I don’t trust so easily anymore.”
My brother opened his mouth, as if he had something to say, then changed his mind. It was okay. I knew what he was thinking. I didn’t have to shut myself off completely from all men. I just had to be smart.
Rocky finally let Gus lead him down the block, and I hopped in the car. After all that, it was almost eight forty-five when I finally pulled up to Letty Maron’s modest ranch house at the end of a dark cul-de-sac.
What in the world am I doing? It was pretty late to show up at someone’s home unannounced. But her lights were on, and these were unusual circumstances. Maybe she would welcome the company.
At least that’s what I told myself as I approached her front porch. I had been here before, and not only to deliver flowers. I’d come here as a kid a time or two. Letty always opened her door to trick-or-treaters and youngsters selling goodies for school fundraisers. I’d never actually been inside, though. As the chain rattled and the knob turned, I planned on how I would change that: by talking fast and pouring on the charm.
Letty squinted at me warily. “Sierra?” Thankfully, she was still dressed, I noted, in light-blue jeans, a slightly wrinkled plaid blouse, and a well-worn cable-knit cardigan.
“Hi, Letty! How are you holding up? I hope it’s not too late for a quick visit. I just wanted to check on you after, you know, the terrible event yesterday. I made these for you.”
“Oh,” she said, with not a little hesitation. “Thank you.”
When she reached for the vase, I put my hand on the edge of the door and ever-so-slightly pushed it a bit wider. “How are you holding up?” I repeated.
“I’m okay.”
“Well, I think I’m still in shock, you know?” I laughed a little. “I mean, never in a million years could I have imagined I’d witness something like that! You understand. You’re one of only a few people who could, seeing as how you were there.” I laughed again. “It’s a lot to process, isn’t it? I’ve found it sometimes helps to talk things over with someone who can relate. I thought it might help us both, you know, if we talked about it a little.”
She stared at me for a beat before responding, in the only way she politely could. “Would you like to come in?”
“Maybe for just a minute,” I said, already breezing past her.
The small entryway opened into a tidy, though very dated, living room. From the orange-brown shag carpet to the spindly-legged coffee table and doily-covered end tables, the décor was from another, long-gone era. It struck me as odd, until I remembered that this had actually been her parents’ home. As I recalled, Letty was a widow. Her husband had been in the Army when he died in a training accident overseas. Letty and her young son had moved in with her parents and remained here even after her parents passed away some time ago.
Letty picked up a remote control and pointed it at the TV in the corner. Instead of turning it off, she muted it. The show seemed to be a re-run of some old detective show, Columbo maybe.
“Would you like some tea or coffee?” Letty asked. “The kettle is already on.”
“Tea would be nice,” I said, taking a seat on the nubby, upholstered sofa.
While Letty was in the kitchen preparing refreshments, I gazed around the room. A collection of framed photographs lined the mantle, and they all seemed to feature the same person: Letty’s son. I tried to remember his name. Was it Troy? Or Trey? I never knew him, but I knew of him. He was a few years older than me. The pictures showed him as a child over the years. Some seemed to be school portraits. In others he wore a baseball uniform. There were none of him as an adult. What had happened to him? It seemed to me as if he’d gotten into some kind of trouble—something to do with drugs or drunk driving—and wound up in prison. I’d have to ask my parents.
Letty returned with a plate of sandwich cookies and a mug of tea. She handed me the mug (which bore the words Best Teacher above a red apple), then pushed aside a pile of newspapers and magazines on the coffee table to make room for the cookies. As she did so, I noticed a familiar scrap of flannel material and realized it was one of Granny’s herb bags.
“Is that—” I began, then snapped my mouth shut. I shouldn’t pry about such things. Knowing what folks came to Granny for, that bag could contain anything from a secret love potion to a home remedy for nail fungus.
Letty sat down in the adjacent recliner and reached for her own mug (which bore the words #1 Teacher above a yellow pencil). “What?” she asked.
“Is that … Columbo?” I pointed at the TV, where a man in a rumpled trench coat leaned down and picked up something small from the ground. Probably a clue.
“Yes,” said Letty.
“It’s hard to believe we have a real-life murder mystery right here in Aerieville,” I said.
Letty paused mid-sip and coughed a little.
“I mean, the police seem to be treating it like a murder,” I continued. “Because of the poison they found. But I still can’t believe it. I keep hoping they’ll discover it was really an accident after all.”
“Anything is possible,” said Letty. “Abe probably had poisons at his garden center.”
“That’s true! I hadn’t thought of that.” I glanced up at the TV, where the detective was now gesturing and tilting his head at someone. The person was glaring back at him. “Of course,” I went on, “a lot of people didn’t care for Abe. I imagine the police will be looking for motives and all that.”
Letty didn’t reply, but I noticed her complexion seemed to pale. I wondered if she’d heard the rumor Richard had mentioned, about Abe receiving death threats. I wasn’t sure if I should repeat it. It seemed a little overdramatic.
“Have you heard from Chief Walden since yesterday?” I asked.
Letty shook her head. “No.”
“I haven’t either.” I took a sip of my tea, giving Letty space to make conversation. She didn’t say anything.
“Well,” I said, “whatever happened, it’s too bad he died.”
She nodded slowly. “Sometimes life isn’t fair. However, I tend to believe the Lord works in mysterious ways. Everything happens for a reason. It’s too bad for Abe, but at least it wasn’t a younger person who died that way. Or a nicer person.”
“I suppose so,” I said, surprised at Letty’s words. I didn’t know she could be so philosophical. “Abe certainly wasn’t the nicest person,” I agreed. “He was mean to you.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t care what he thought of me. But there were others who did have strong feelings about him.” She paused, as if weighing her words. “One thing’s for sure. There are many in Aerieville’s business community who will end up benefiting from Abe’s absence.”
“In what way?”
“Oh, you know. Since Abe was on the town zoning board.” She saw my blank look and explained, “Anytime a new business needs a variance, or an existing one wants to expand, the board has to approve it. Abe was known for taking advantage of this power.”
Interesting. “You mean, in an inappropriate way? Like, he abused his power?”
“Well,” she demurred. “I don’t want to spread gossip.”
“Of course not,” I quickly agreed.
“On the other hand, I guess it wasn’t really much of a secret. Abe was known to block projects if he didn’t like the applicant, or if he thought their enterprise would compete with his own business. That’s why his was the only garden center in the county. Your boss, Felix, was probably his closest competitor.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I think Felix viewed Abe more as a supplier than a competitor. Flower House sells mostly cut flowers and orchids. Abe sold outdoor plants used in landscaping.”
She shrugged and leaned back in her rocker. “All I know is that any business owner needing zoning-board approval would have done well to stay on Abe’s good side.”
“Hmm. Like Bill and Flo? I remember a while ago they talked about expanding Bread n’ Butter to add more seating and create a bigger menu. Is that the kind of thing that would require board approval?”
“If they wanted to add on to their building footprint, then yes, I believe so.” She took another sip of tea, looking thoughtful. “Converting a building from one use to another also requires board approval. Like when Valerie Light wanted to open her dance studio in the old textile factory downtown.”
“Oh, yeah, I kind of remember that. I was a kid at the time, but a few of my classmates were excited to have a place for ballet lessons here in town.” Come to think of it, Deena Lee was one of them. Of course, she was a marvelous dancer.
Letty rubbed her finger along the rim of her mug. “It almost didn’t open. I’m not sure how Valerie ended up getting the approval she needed. You’d have to ask her about it.”
Yes, I thought, as I set my cup down and stood up. I definitely will have to ask her about it. I thanked Letty for the tea and cookies and left her house, thoughts swirling in my mind.
Before picking up Gus, I went back to Flower House to put Valerie’s bouquet in the cold-storage case until tomorrow. While I was there, I realized I’d better check and see if we’d received any online orders. Just because the shop was closed didn’t mean folks couldn’t visit our website. Usually, Felix was the one to download the orders each evening. Now it was up to me.
As I sat at Felix’s old chestnut desk and waited for the site to load, I looked around his small cluttered office. If I was going to be the new proprietor, I’d definitely want to make a few changes. For starters, I’d remove the mounted fish hanging on the wall above the computer. Blech. The poster of Victorian salmon flies, featuring brightly-colored exotic bird feathers, was kind of neat, but not really my style. The vintage wildflower chart, however, I’d probably keep.
Swiveling in the chair, I couldn’t believe how messy the room was. An overstuffed bookcase contained a jumble of old books and trinkets. That might be fun to look through—if I can ever find the time. Beyond that, stacks of newspapers and magazines covered every available surface. So did a thick layer of dust.
I turned back to the computer and saw that we actually had three orders. I printed them out, mentally running through what I’d need to put them together in the morning. Too bad I’d told Francie not to come in.
I was about to double-check the inventory file, when I heard a creak from somewhere within the shop. I paused, staring at the open door into the dark hallway. Of course, it had to be Calvin. Both doors, front and back, were locked.
Still, it was starting to feel strange to be here so late. I should get going. I shut down the computer and grabbed my purse. Flipping off the light behind me, I emerged from the office and stepped into the hallway, where I stood for a moment, listening. Had I heard another noise? The office was in the rear of the building, across the hall from the kitchen workroom. To my left was the closed door leading to the upstairs apartment. I turned right and made my way toward the front of the store. Halfway there, I stopped again. This time I definitely heard a strange noise. It was a scraping sound, like something scratching on a window. It was coming from the orchid room.
Without thinking, I reached my arm into the room to feel for the switch on the wall and flipped on the overhead light. Nothing seemed out of place. Tall tables and shelves displayed half a dozen varieties of orchid, some in pretty, ceramic pots, along with a wall of books on all things orchid: growing guides, history books, pictorial books featuring colorful photos, and more. The south wall was dominated by a large picture window. The curtains were open, revealing only blackness on the other side.
I crossed the room and made sure the window latch was secure. Then I cupped my hands to the pane to peer outside. It was too dark to see anything. Weird. I told myself it must have been a branch scratching against the window, but I knew this was unlikely. There were no trees outside this window.
After a moment, I pulled back and drew the curtains. Then I turned around—and came face-to-face with a tall man standing silently right behind me. I screamed.
“Sorry to startle you,” he said.
“Bill!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
Bill Morrison gave me the barest of smiles. “Just being neighborly,” he said mildly. “Everything okay?”
“Uh.” I was still so surprised I couldn’t seem to form words.
He nodded once, then turned and left the room. I followed him into the hallway and watched as he walked to the front door and let himself out.
I was still staring after him, when Calvin appeared at the end of the hall.
“Oh, hello,” he said. “I didn’t know you were here. I thought I should make sure everything was locked up.” He started for the office door and stubbed his toe. “Oopsie-daisy!” Then he laughed his goofy, snorting laugh. “Well, I guess you can do it. Lock up, I mean. Since you’re here.”
I overlooked his awkwardness. “Why was Bill here?”
“Bill? He helped me carry up my furniture earlier. Then he came back a little while ago and brought muffins. He also helped me hang some shelves. Nice guy.”
I was feeling uncommonly irritated, probably due to tiredness and shot nerves. With my hands on my hips, I leaned in. “Listen, I’m glad you had help and all, but you gotta be careful about who you let come in here. Bill is a murder suspect, you know.”
Calvin’s eyes got big as saucers. “What? No way!”
It sounded ridiculous, even to me. Yet I knew it was true. “Yes way. I told you what the police chief said. Somebody poisoned a man at my flower-arranging workshop. Everyone who attended is a suspect.”
“Wow. Sorry. He seemed nice. He came over when he saw me unloading the van and offered to help. He was kind of a lifesaver.”
“Yeah, well, most murderers don’t go around acting all murdery. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase It’s always the one you least suspect?”
As the words came out of my mouth, I was hit with another realization. The killer really could be anyone … even a shy schoolteacher who lives alone and serves you tea and cookies.
It seemed preposterous. Still, maybe I should rethink my plan to go and question all the witnesses. At least, not by myself. Like Rocky said, I was no dummy.
Not usually.