Spyglass Lane Mysteries presents:
Garden Gate Mysteries Book Two
Read Between the Tines
By
Susan Sleeman
Copyright 2012 by Susan Sleeman
Spyglass Lane Mysteries
Smashwords Edition
Discover other Spyglass Lane titles at SpyglassLaneMysteries.com.
Published in association with MacGregor Literary Inc., Portland, Oregon.
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Acknowledgements:
Special thanks to:
My family—my ever patient and understanding husband, Mark for everything he does to give me the time to write. My daughter Emma for editing and proofreading, and Erin for the wonderful book cover for this book and the e-book version of Nipped in the Bud.
To Amanda Luedeke for formatting the manuscript and for all the hard work on the Spyglass Lane Mysteries series.
To the very generous Ron Norris—retired police officer with the LaVerne Police Department—who gives of his time and knowledge in both police procedures. Thank you for always answering my questions so thoroughly and so promptly. You go above and beyond, and I can’t thank you enough! Any errors in or liberties taken with the technical details Ron so patiently explained to me are all my doing.
And most importantly, thank you God for my faith and for giving me daily challenges to grow closer to you.
Chapter One
"That's about it for today's KALM Farm to Market Report. This is your host, Ollie Grayson, reminding you to keep your radio dials tuned to KALM for our Seeking singles month. After our mid-morning news, Paige Turner, KALM's single gardening gal and host of Through the Garden Gate, offers sage dating advice that you won't want to miss."
Sage dating advice?
Did Ollie know me at all? Clearly not. The only sage advice I could offer was how to grow the plant, both as an herb and a decorative perennial. Not that I should expect Ollie to understand me if just a month ago half the town thought I was guilty of murdering City Manager Bud Picklemann.
Murder. Really!
I snapped off the radio and watched my best friend Lisa Winkle attack an overgrown garden bed, clawing at dense clay soil with a heavy-duty rake. Beads of sweat from the Oregon summer sun glistened on her forehead, but she didn’t slow down from the heat.
I couldn’t help but smile as I snapped off the radio. Best friends since elementary school, she was one of the few people in town who'd believed I hadn't killed Bud, and I owed her my undying gratitude for her support. For helping me out on my latest landscape project this morning, I owed her babysitting and a dinner out with her hubby Perry.
"Time to go," I said and leaned my hoe against the fence. "Roger will kill us if we're late for the show again." My gardening talk show, produced by Lisa, aired at noon in the summer months.
Lisa stretched her back and sighed. "This work is killing me. It would be so much easier if I went to the gym instead of counting on your projects for exercise."
"But I'm a lot cheaper than a gym membership." I smiled and crossed the yard near a freshly planted flowerbed to get to my truck.
As she pulled the door open, the hinge grated like fingernails on a chalkboard. "So what'll you do if we move?"
Cry, whine, lose sleep. "I guess I'll have to hire someone." I wanted to be supportive of her potential move from Serendipity to Portland, and I tried, honest I did, but my tone came out a bit snappy. Snappy enough to turn Lisa's smile into an adorable pout as she climbed onto the dusty seat and leaned her head back.
I aimed my landscape-weary vehicle down Main Street, the aptly named central thoroughfare of Serendipity, Oregon for the short drive to the station. Snuggled in the middle of the Willamette Valley, Serendipity had reinvented itself to attract the tourist trade. The town capitalized on being the home of Pacific Pickles by dotting the streets with bright green trashcans in the shape of pickles. But did they stop there? No. Someone's very creative mind birthed Briny, a giant pickle mascot who attended local events and an annual pickle festival also took over the town in May.
I glanced at Lisa. Usually a chatterbox, she'd been far too quiet. Shoulder propped against the window, her lower lip had grown. Maybe I'd upset her. Despite my desire to lock the whole Winkle family in their home so they couldn't leave me, I found my supportive friend tone. "So how's the job hunt going? Has Perry decided on one of the offers yet?"
She shook her head, sending the lip back to a normal position. "No and I don't get it. He says he's bored by his practice here then keeps dragging his feet about choosing the law firm he wants to work for. I wish he'd make up his mind so we can get going."
Yes, keep dragging. "Sounds like you're in a big rush to get out of here."
"Me? You know I don't really want to move, but if we're going, I want to get it over with." She exhaled with enough force to send dust flying on the dashboard. "There's just so much to do. It takes planning and organization to move a household."
I patted her knee. "You need to relax a bit. Once Perry makes a decision you'll have plenty of time for your usual obsessing."
"I have to obsess if I'm going to get everything done. You only have yourself to worry about. I've got twins and a husband to organize." Her tone sounded mean-spirited, but I knew she wasn't demeaning my single status, just trying to emphasize how overburdened she felt. Usually easy to get along with, my perky little Shasta daisy had been a bit cranky for the last month.
I had this habit of classifying everyone as a plant using the plant's traits. Most of the time Lisa was carefree and relatively trouble free like the Shasta daisy, but this potential move had catapulted her out of her comfort zone.
Take now for instance. Her pout had morphed into a huge scowl. If one of my daisies behaved that way, I'd pamper the poor baby with more water, maybe give it a good dousing of compost tea. Not something I could do with Lisa. Drenching her with any liquid, especially one made from fermented garden clippings, would surely end our friendship, so I opted to keep quiet for the remainder of the short drive.
At the station, we strolled up the sidewalk leading to the poorly landscaped building that I'd often begged our miserly station manager to improve.
Lisa looked up at the station's call signal posted in large neon letters above the glass door. "Any idea who'll replace me?"
Was she never going to stop with the moving thing? All I wanted after having a recent run in Bud's killer was for my life to take on a normal kind of boring routine. I couldn't possibly achieve peace of mind if my anchor moved away. Still, I had to keep my feelings to myself and let my little daisy pull up roots if she needed to.
I shrugged as if Lisa filling the producer spot was of no consequence to me and followed her down the narrow hall. We entered our respective booths and settled into the miniscule spaces in a routine we followed six days a week. I'd just put on my headset when Lisa rapped on a large window between our booths then started her countdown to the show with ten raised fingers.
As her last stubby digit dropped, I took a deep breath. "Good Monday morning. This is your host, Paige Turner, welcoming you to the next hour of Through the Garden Gate. Our lines are open for your gardening questions, but I want to remind you of this month's Seeking Singles theme. We'll take your dating questions in the last five minutes of the show all week long. So come on singles, call in and we'll offer advice on finding your perfect someone. Don't be shy. Prepare your questions, while we talk gardening." I paused and looked up at Lisa. And who's our first caller, Lisa?"
"Weed Whacker on line one," she said and grinned.
I wanted to sigh, but we were on the air so I stifled it. A regular caller, Weed Whacker frequently misunderstood my advice and found herself in unbelievable messes.
I forced a smile into my voice. "Go ahead, Weed Whacker, you're on Through the Garden Gate, and this is your host, Paige Turner."
"Oh, Paige." Weed Whacker's voice gushed over the airwaves. "I'm so glad I got a hold of you. I don't know what to do. I found a. . . a. . .a. . .dead body."
I quickly glanced at Lisa. Phone to her ear, head down, she was either clueless or didn't care if Weed Whacker was up to her bleached hair in another mess. Nor did Lisa seem to be troubled with sending me out on a limb with a chainsaw poised to rip through the branch and send me plummeting.
I turned back and directed my voice at the boom mic. "Is this a joke, Weed Whacker?"
"Why would I kid about a dead body?" Weed Whacker, a.k.a. Daisy Plante's tone gave me a clear visual of her often-vacant eyes, wide open in bewilderment. She couldn't help the vacant part. Think the brain of Jethro on The Beverly Hillbillies zapped into the body of Ellie May, and you had a perfect understanding of Daisy. "I need you to come over here, now!"
Her demanding tone left me speechless. Daisy never demanded anything. Though she often confused and frustrated other people, she was one of the sweetest and most patient people I knew.
Lisa tapped on the window and twirled her finger. Her speeding finger and pointed stare told me to say something and get rid of the dead air.
"So where is this supposed body?" I asked, trying to keep my skepticism out of my tone.
"He's right here."
"Where's here?"
"In the woods by the ball field."
"Why are you in the woods, Weed Wacker?"
"Today is the women's slow-pitch tourney. They wanted Briny to be here." For the past two months, Daisy had played the giant pickle with great skill. She took the gig when the usual Briny—the one who never called my show to ask silly questions—broke his leg.
"Okay, so you're at the tourney. But the woods, Weed Whacker, why are you in the woods?"
"Well, I wanted to—wait, are we still on the air?"
"Yes."
"Then I'd rather not say." Her sullen tone came over the phone loud and clear.
At the risk of sounding cold and heartless to my listeners who had no idea I wanted to help Daisy, but wasn't eager to see a second dead body in little more than a month's time, I said, "Why don't you call the police?"
"I can't. I saw how the police chief treated you when you found that city manager all dead on your project. The chief thought you were a suspect just because you found the guy. What if he does the same thing to me?"
"Well, to be fair to Chief Lawson," something I couldn't believe I was attempting to do, "there were a few other things pointing suspicion my way."
Lisa, eyes frenzied, rapped on the window again, this time rolling her hand like cranking an old movie camera, our signal to go to commercial.
I was very happy to oblige. "I'm sorry, Weed Whacker, but we need to take a short commercial break. If you'll hold on, we'll make sure this problem is resolved. For the rest of our audience, stay turned for more of Through the Garden Gate when we'll return to answer your gardening questions."
"What's going on?" Lisa's perturbed voice boomed through the open doorway. "I talk with the next caller for a few minutes and come back to find you up to your neck in murder."
"You're the one who let Daisy through. Didn't you ask why she was calling?"
"Well, no. She usually asks something kind of dumb, but it's always been gardening related in the past."
"Hmm, gardening related. That's an idea. Maybe I should tell her to get the new shovel I recommended last month, dig a deep hole, and—"
Lisa groaned. "Paige, seriously, you need to get rid of her. We're back in a minute thirty."
"Fine." I would dispatch her during the commercial then get on with my program. I picked up the phone. "Daisy, why on earth did you call here?"
"I tried your cell, but you didn't answer. I had to talk to you right away. I knew it was time for the show, but Lisa was so sweet and put me right through. So are you coming?"
I glanced at my soon to be ex-best friend who still held the phone to her ear and remained clueless about her part in this radio travesty. She appeared as angelic as her twin three-year-olds in sleep mode. I turned back to the phone. "You need to call the police, Daisy. Even if I wanted to come, I have to finish the show."
"I didn't want to do this, but you owe me, Paige. I saved you last month. If I didn't you'd be. . .well, you'd be. . . dead."
I was beyond grateful for Daisy's help in keeping me alive and thought about it often. Especially at night when I rehashed how close I'd come to being killed. And Daisy was right. She did save my life. I thought I had paid back my debt when I gave her a job at my shop, The Garden Gate, and kept her on staff despite inept skills. Obviously, she didn't think so. "Low blow, Daisy."
"I'm sorry. I really am, but I was there for you when you needed me. Now I need you." I recognized her stubborn tone. She wouldn't give up until I agreed to help.
"Fine, but this makes us even. And if I'm hassled even the least little bit by our illustrious chief, I'm gonna. . .I'm gonna—oh I don't know what I'll do, but I'll do it." I punched the disconnect button and rushed into Lisa's booth. "Put on a 'best of' show. I'm leaving."
Her head popped up. "You are not going down there. After all you went through last month? Paige, don't. You're just asking for trouble."
I pulled my keys from my pocket. "Don't you think I know that? But what choice do I have? Daisy played the you-owe-me-for-saving-your-life card."
"You still don't have to go."
"Relax. Knowing Daisy, this is all a big mistake, and there won't be a body. I'll let you know what happens."
I rushed down the long hall, past Roger Freund's office. He called my name, but I kept going. Roger tuned in to all of KALM's programs and never missed Through the Garden Gate, the top rated local show. Not a hard won honor, I grant you, with competing shows like Success Serendipity Style, the Farm to Market Report and Rainy Day Crafts. With such a limited lineup, I could afford to ignore Roger this one time.
I charged into the sunshine, climbed into my truck, and sped toward Daisy's location. Nearing Cedar and Main, my phone chimed in the tone I'd assigned to Adam Hayes, a criminal defense attorney and my new boyfriend. We met that horrific day I'd discovered Bud Picklemann's body on my construction site and Adam was called in to defend me from an overzealous police chief.
I pressed my Bluetooth headset and gave the man who was threatening to capture my heart a warm greeting.
"You are not on your way to the ball field," he said, all bossy and demanding, quickly melting my warmth.
"Well, hello to you, too."
"Paige, come on. Tell me you're not in your truck on the way to the field."
I looked out the window at the buildings zipping past and laughed. "I'm not in my truck on the way to the field."
He went silent for a few seconds. "You are, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but you told me to tell you—"
"Stop right there. What are you thinking?" His voice thundered through my phone like a sonic boom. "It's only been a little over a month since your near brush with incarceration."
"Ooh, I love it when you talk all lawyerly."
He groaned. "It doesn't matter what I say, does it? You're still going."
"I have to. I owe Daisy. But after this, we'll be even."
"Right. Something tells me you'll need to get it in writing."
"I might just make her sign in blood." I laughed again, feeling the tension lightening. "Hey, wait. How did you know about this anyway?"
"I was listening to your show. When you didn't come back from commercial I knew where you were headed."
A flush of warmth spread through me. He tuned me in. A man who hated gardening had only one reason for turning his radio dial to my show. He loved me. Or wait, maybe two. His day was moving along at a slug's pace and he was bored. Probably the second one. "Must be a slow day in the office, huh?"
"A good day in my opinion. One where I could have caught up on my paperwork. Now I'll need to head over there." His tone had turned a smidge testy.
"Why? I can handle this."
He snorted. "You can handle Chief Lawson?"
"Sure, why not?"
"The way you handled him the last time."
I chose to ignore his insinuation that I nearly melted, okay, totally melted under Mitch Lawson's threats to arrest me last month. "I might not even see Mitch. With Daisy's ability to misunderstand things it's possible there's no body."
"True, but—"
Before he could argue further, I blurted out, "So don't bother driving all this way. I'll call if there's a problem. Talk to you later." I disconnected and pulled the truck into the ball field parking lot located at the bottom of the hill behind Serendipity High School. I dropped my headset into the cup holder as I only used it while driving to comply with Oregon's hands free cell phone laws. Hopping out, I listened to screaming fans and inhaled the mouthwatering aromas from the concession stand drifting on the slight breeze.
My desire for a salty bag of popcorn nearly had me veering off course, but I was here to see if Daisy really found a dead body, not go to a movie, so I tamped it down. I skirted the field, keeping to the perpendicular line of trees. If there was indeed a body ahead, I didn't want to draw attention from the crowd before we could decide how to handle the situation.
Picking my way through trees grouped forest-close, I searched for any sign of the bright green pickle costume. In a small clearing about thirty feet into the woods, I spotted Briny's head on the ground next to a tree stump holding Daisy. Still cocooned in Briny's suit, she'd opened the costume to her waist. The soft folds of the fabric scrunched up around her face.
Even clad in a pickle body, Daisy's waif like appearance reminded me of Russian sage. I could easily have dubbed her a daisy, but she didn't embody the easygoing, sturdy nature. She fit Russian sage not only for its light, airy foliage and flowers, but her actions and motives were often so hard to understand, it seemed as if she were transplanted from a foreign country.
I searched the area around her, but saw no dead body.
"Daisy," I called out, "is this some sort of joke? Where's the body?"
"Over there." She pulled her hands from behind and pointed to the right.
Her Briny gloves were soaked in a red liquid. Was that blood? Anxiety mounting, I followed the line of her finger to the wooded edge of the clearing. Two large black shoes, soles scuffed, jutted from a pile of leaves. On top of what I assumed was the man's head, lay a thick log covered in blood.
Hold up! This didn't seem to be a false alarm after all.
I shot my gaze back to Daisy's blood-soaked hands. Had she indeed found the body or was this worse that I'd feared? Had she'd gone off the deep end and murdered a man and, if so, who in the world could it be?
Chapter Two
"Paige, thank goodness you came." Daisy's thin face cleared and a wide smile turned up her full and abundantly lacquered lips.
What? She was smiling. Didn't she get that someone, namely me, might think her guilty of killing this man?
She awkwardly lurched to her feet and took hasty toddler steps toward me. A few rapid plops of the big vinyl Briny feet and they tangled together, pitching her forward.
"Oomph," she cried out as she landed on the large belly of the costume. She looked up, her face blanching, and stabbed a finger at me. "You called the cops. How could you, Paige?"
"No I didn't." Following the direction of her shaking finger, I spun around.
Someone did. Probably someone who heard the radio show. Big, burly Chief of Police Mitch Lawson with two officers tailing him charged through the trees. As if he had dead body radar, his focus zeroed in on the man partially covered with leaves. "Well, well, well, Paige. What do we have here?"
I groaned at his implication. This was not happening. Not again. No way I'd let him accuse me of any part in this guy's death. Nor would I let him railroad Daisy as he'd done to me when I'd found Bud.
Ignoring Mitch, I helped the disheveled Daisy to her feet. "Be careful of what you say to him, Daisy. In fact, you don't have to say anything without an attorney."
Mitch glared at me. "Best not to get on my nerves today, Paige. I already have enough to run you in for obstruction of justice."
My mouth dropped open. "Say what?"
He clamped a large hand on his holstered gun, a habitual gesture I assumed he thought demonstrated power. "When your friend called to tell you about the body, you were obligated to report it. Instead, you came over here like you intended to help cover it up."
I crossed my arms. This was crazy. He was crazy. "Okay, first of all, when Daisy called, I wasn't even sure there was a body. And second, if you were listening to the show, you would have heard me tell her to call you."
Mitch gave us his practiced bad cop glare. "Ahh, but then you changed your mind and drove out here. How do you think your actions look? Your best bet right now is to cooperate, fully."
I clenched my fists. He had us right where he wanted us. Just like bamboo, the plant name I'd assigned to him. The big ole stalks of disorderly-running-take-over-your-property type of bamboo had pushed through my barriers and gotten me all flustered. But I wouldn't give in so easily.
I ripped my phone from the clip and dialed Adam. "Come. Now. To the ball field. Mitch is in a snit again."
Adam sighed. "I'm already on my way."
Instead of getting mad at him for ignoring my earlier request, I was happy his drive from nearby McMinnville had already begun. I thanked him, stowed my phone and clamped my hand around Daisy's fur-covered arm. Jerking a thumb over my shoulder, I glared at Mitch. "We'll be over there waiting for you. You can question Daisy when Adam gets here."
Daisy, eyes wide, let her gaze dart between us.
"Don't worry," I said to her. "I'll take care of everything."
Mitch scoffed, but for once said nothing. He turned and strode toward his men who had rushed to the body as fast as deer would race toward freshly planted flowers.
"The chief didn't seem too happy with us," Daisy whispered. "I'm not sure you should have made him so mad."
"Listen," I said as we returned to the stump. "If you don't stand up for your rights Mitch will run all over you. I learned the hard way, and I can help stop you from being railroaded."
She blinked her thick, false lashes. "I don't know."
"Then why did you call me? You wanted help, right? So trust me." I dropped onto the edge of the stump and patted the spot next to me. As she sat, the Briny suit brushed softly against my bare legs. Though tickling my skin, I was in no mood to laugh.
"Mind telling me how you got covered in blood?" I asked, trying to keep my suspicions out of my tone.
"What? You think I killed the guy?" Mouth gaping, she jumped up and drew Mitch's attention.
"Shh. Mitch is staring at you." I pulled her down. "Whether you killed the man or not, you'll have to explain the blood. If you tell me what happened, I can think about it until Adam gets here and maybe I can come up with something to help."
"Oh. . .help. . .yeah, thanks." She rested her hands on her knees. The blood had dried on the edges of the gloves leaving a brown tinged ring. "When I got back here and saw the big log on the guy's head, I thought, oh no, the log fell off the tree and trapped him. I need to free the poor guy."
Imagining her finding the man, I looked at the spot where he lay. All the trees in his vicinity were young saplings dreaming of the day they would produce a thick log like the one lying on the victim. Still, I was certain she was telling the truth no matter how bizarre the logic. That was how Daisy's mind worked.
"So what did you do?" I asked.
"I ran over there and picked up the log." She wrapped her arms around her middle and started rocking. "Oh, Paige, it was awful. Just awful. His head was so smashed, but I checked for a pulse anyway." She halted mid rock and looked at me with baffled eyes. "You know what? I don't think the log fell on him. I think someone hit him with it. Lots of times. They killed him."
"Do you know who the man is?"
"No, I couldn't tell. There was so much blood, I—" She started crying.
I rubbed her back in small little circles I hoped would give comfort and decided to end my interrogation. She'd have to recount all of these horrific details as soon as Adam got here and, with my limited experience in murder investigations, it's not as if I really could help her. At least not other than providing moral support. So I continued to rub her back and watched the officers work.
Taking small sure steps, the men thoroughly combed the area. One of them placed a tented card painted with the number one on the grass then snapped a picture. The shutter click ricocheted through the clearing, stirring birds overhead. Occasionally the officers picked up items and put them in plastic bags. Mitch held the wallet from the deceased and talked into his phone, probably calling the medical examiner.
With Mitch holding the wallet, we'd soon know this poor guy's identity. Did I know the man lying there? Probably. As small as Serendipity was, I most likely had at minimum a passing knowledge of him. Soon his family members going about their day as usual would have their world thrown into turmoil.
How horrible. Utterly horrible. I closed my eyes and offered a prayer for the family and their situation.
"What're you doing?" Daisy asked after a few minutes.
I opened my eyes. "Praying."
She rolled her bluer than blue eyes. "Oh, yeah, I forgot you believe all that junk."
Had she not been fresh from the discovery of a body, I might've snapped at having my faith called junk, but I cut her some slack. "Faith gets you through tough times."
"I never did get what the big deal was. Like when Mitch tried to send you to jail last month. If your god could help you why didn't he make Mitch back off?"
I pondered the serious expression on her face. Now was probably not a time to get into this, but I couldn't let the opportunity pass. "God could take away our struggles and sometimes He does. Other times He lets us go through the difficulty so we can learn from the experience. But He's always there, ready to listen."
Her face remained blank. "Huh? You lost me."
"Think of how you felt when you found the body. You needed someone to be with you so you called me. I needed to remember God was with me just now and praying is just like calling Him."
She raised penciled-in eyebrows. "Okay, I kinda see, but I still don't know why he doesn't just help you out."
"Because He's like a father. He wants you to have a wonderful life, but sometimes it's better for you to work through the problem so you learn to cope with all life throws at you."
Her skinny brows crinkled. "So what did you learn from that whole mess last month?"
"Things happen and you have no control over them so why spend time trying."
"I don't try to control things."
I laughed at her literal interpretation. "I meant me, Daisy. I like to control things."
She nodded rapidly. "Don't I know it. At work, you're always acting like the boss."
I shook my head and laughed again. "I am the boss."
"Oh, yeah, right." Her eyes drifted off, and she jabbed a fuzzy finger at the edge of the woods. "Look, there's Adam."
My sweetie, wearing dark blue jeans paired with a deep green polo shirt, stood arguing with a uniformed officer who was turning red and seemed to want to keep Adam out of the crime scene. When I first met Adam, I didn't think he was super attractive. His eyes and nose were a little too large for his face. If you stared at him when he was still, the features seemed out of place, but when he smiled or grew animated like now, everything fit splendidly and my heart raced from seeing him.
That first day I'd nicknamed him an iris for the plain pointed leaves shooting from the ground before a stunning display of flowers took your breath away, and I haven't changed my mind. Irises were, in my opinion, the most varied and useful genus in the garden. Like them, Adam was very low maintenance and trouble free. Oh, and very important in life recently, irises were quite pest-free, which came in handy when I needed protection from a pest like Mitch.
Sadly, Adam wasn't trouble free right now. In fact, he was waving his fists and raising his voice, demanding to see me. Mitch took his time, sauntering over to his officer to authorize Adam's entry.
As soon as Mitch stepped back, Adam brushed past him and charged across the clearing. "Are you two okay?"
At the concern in his eyes, I smiled to ease his worry. "We're fine. But I think Mitch might try to pin this on Daisy."
Adam gave Daisy a tight smile. A practiced lawyer's I'm-here-to-help-but-I'm-not-a-miracle-worker smile. He used the same one on me at our first encounter when Mitch thought I was a prime murder suspect.
Adam clapped his hands together and peered at me. "Okay, first things first. If you think Mitch is trying to implicate Daisy then you also think the man was murdered. Who is he?"
"We don't know yet. But I think Mitch does."
"He didn’t mention it, but let me see if I can find out." Adam spun and marched with purposeful strides to Mitch.
The pair talked, perhaps argued, as Mitch's face tensed and his gestures grew lively. Adam tipped his head in our direction. Mitch looked at us. I stared back and tapped a toe. Hours seemed to tick past as I waited for the news. Their motions grew more animated. Adam shook his head and pivoted. Looking disgusted, he rushed back to us.
"What'd he say?" I peered into his troubled eyes. "Did he tell you who it is?"
"No, but he did tell me he needs to talk with Daisy. I tried to get him to schedule an appointment at the station later. He won't hear of it. Said the blood all over her hands and suit are enough to take her in."
"Arrest me?" Daisy jumped up, her vinyl feet clacking together.
Adam shook his head. "He's taking you to the office for questioning."
I placed a protective hand on Daisy's shoulder. "If he doesn't have enough for an arrest, why haul her down there when he could ask the same questions here?"
More frustrated than I'd ever seen, Adam peered at me. "He said something about being tired of you interfering with his job."
Adam's irritated scowl also said he was tired of me butting into these crimes. Shoot, Daisy had the same expression on her face. I was only trying to help. Maybe I was trying just a teensy bit too hard to control this situation and needed to lighten up.
In defeat, I looked up. Okay, God, I get the point.
"I'll talk to him," I said and crossed over to Mitch. I forced a smile. "Mitch, please don't take Daisy to the station. I'm sorry I've been pushy. If I promise to keep my mouth shut, will you talk to her here?"
He made a big production of thinking it over—hemming and hawing, his finger tapping on his chin. "Not a word?"
"Not a word."
"I'm not sure I can trust you."
My temper was flaring, and I wasn't sure I could trust myself much longer either. "Please, don't make Daisy pay for your frustrations with me. It isn't her fault."
"Fine," he said, his eyes brightening from thunderous to mildly perturbed. "Let's get to it."
He marched ahead, but I dragged behind. How was I going to follow through on my promise? Could I possibly stand by and watch him run through his tough cop routine with Daisy and not try to stop him? I highly doubted it, but only time would tell.
Chapter Three
As I approached, I heard Adam tell Daisy if she was uncomfortable answering questions to look at him, and he would nod if she should respond. He would also interrupt if she should stop talking. I wanted to rush ahead and tell Adam Daisy frequently misunderstood the subtleties that Mitch would surely use in his questioning and to provide her with more explicit directions, but the snarly lawman would interpret my words as interference.
Besides our recent tussle over Bud's death, Mitch held a gigantic grudge against me from high school. At a class picnic, he'd bragged about making a dangerous jump off a train trestle into the river. Thinking he'd never do it, I called him on it in front of everyone. He couldn't back down without losing face so he jumped, blowing out his knee. He missed his senior year of football and any chance to go to college on a scholarship. He also blew off our friendship along the way and since I'd come back to Serendipity to live, he'd barely tolerated me.
As if he could feel my thoughts, he gave me a practiced glare then took out a small note pad and looked down on Daisy. "Your full name?"
Daisy pulled back her shoulders, her ample chest pushing free of the bright green suit. "Daisy Rose Plante."
A flash of humor took over Mitch's face, which I didn't appreciate. Not only were Daisy and I sisters in the whole finding a body thing, but we both had mothers who didn't think twice before giving us double meaning names. I couldn't count the times Paige Turner nearly led to a black eye in my youth. Daisy fought a similar battle.
"Okay, Ms. Plante, give me a detailed description of how you came upon the body."
"Well, I walked out here and—"
Mitch held up his hand. "Back up. Exactly why did you come here?"
Face strained, she peered at Adam. He gave a barely perceptible nod. She shook her head. He nodded again.
"I can't tell you," she blurted out. "It doesn't matter anyway. It has nothing to do with finding him. Honest. I promise."
"I'm afraid answering my question isn't optional, Ms. Plante." Mitch looked at Adam. "Please instruct your client to answer."
"I can't. I mean, I won't." Daisy turned to face me. "I'll tell Paige and then she can tell you."
"I can't talk." I tipped my head at Mitch.
Daisy crossed her arms. "Then we'll just have to move to the next question."
Mitch and Adam both seemed like they wanted to strangle Daisy. I wasn't far behind. What could she be too embarrassed to admit?
Mitch cleared his throat. "Fine, tell Paige. But hurry up."
Daisy grabbed my hand and dragged me out of earshot. "The suit was binding something awful, and I had to fix it."
I laughed at what I thought I heard her say. "What?"
She tugged on the inside of the costume molded to her body like a one-piece bathing suit. "This was riding up something fierce. Awful painful. I had to adjust it, but the principal locked up the school after I changed into the costume. I couldn't find him and say, 'excuse me, Mr. Principal but could you let me into the school. My suit is binding up.' I couldn't fix it in public, or I'd get fired for opening the costume in front of others. So I came out here where no one would see me."
I forced back a laugh and giving my eyes an understanding scrunch, I nodded. "I see."
"So, go tell them. I'll wait here until they know."
"It's not a big deal, Daisy."
She seemed ready to pour tears. "Not to you. You aren't the one the whole town will talk about when they hear."
She had a point. This would spread through Serendipity like blight on a rose bush. I could empathize. When I'd found Bud, my name was bandied about and remained airborne until I solved the crime. I would do whatever I could to keep that from happening to Daisy. I gave her a quick hug then returned to the pair and explained her dilemma.
Mitch howled. This was the first time I'd seen him laugh this earnestly since I'd moved back to town a little over a year ago. Who knew it took a simple clothing malfunction to make him laugh? Would have been worth the pain had I known. But I wouldn't downplay Daisy's discomfort. "This is embarrassing enough for Daisy without your chuckles. I hope you'll keep her reason for being out here just between us. Now, can we resume your questions so she can go?"
Mitch nodded and slowly, very slowly, wound down ending with a grin.
Curling a finger, I beckoned Daisy, who trudged our way. Her ginormous green feet flopped on the needle-covered ground, sending debris jumping when they hit. In my opinion, seeing a dejected and utterly humiliated pickle was one of the worst sights in the world.
Mitch, however, seemed not to care. He attacked the moment she arrived. "Okay, so now we know why you were here." He paused as if fighting the grin capturing his lips. "What happened next?"
Daisy flushed crimson. "The marketing manager at Pacific Pickles—she's my boss—already warned me once about messing up the suit, so I set the head ever so carefully on the ground and then opened up the front." She tugged at the seam running the length of the suit. "See how there are Velcro tabs all the way down? It takes forever to get in and out of this thing, but I just had to adjust it, because it was starting to. . .well, never mind. I got it open and shifted things around. Phew, it felt so good. I mean it was really—I saw the man's feet. Then I spotted the log. The poor guy. I just knew he was in trouble. I mean, how would you feel if a log fell off a tree and hit you on the head?"
Right brow raised, Mitch stared at Daisy. "Am I supposed to believe you think the log fell off the tree?"
"Well, not anymore, but at first I did. Why? Is that so hard to believe?"
Mitch shook his head, and Daisy spun to face me.
"Paige believed me. Didn't you, Paige?" Her eyes pled with me for affirmation.
Risking Mitch's wrath, I tugged on his arm and pulled him aside. "Look," I said in a low tone before he could complain. "Sometimes Daisy sees things a little differently than the rest of us. But she's sincere. At first, she really did think the log fell from the tree."
"And I should believe you, why?"
"Because I'm telling you the truth. Just like I told you the truth when you thought I killed Bud." I glanced at Daisy. "Look at her. She's as clueless as Elle in Legally Blonde."
"Who?"
"Never mind. She's kind of an airhead. Fits all the blonde stereotypes. Can you keep this in mind as you talk to her?"
He flicked his fingers as if dismissing me as easily as swatting a bug and rejoined Daisy and Adam. "Okay, Ms. Plante, you saw the log, then what?"
"Well, I had to help the guy, so I ran over there as fast as I could." She thumped her right foot. "I picked up the log. It wasn't very heavy. I stared at his head and thought, 'hmm, something's wrong. His head is smashed really bad. This log couldn't have done so much damage by itself.'" Her clear blue eyes locked on Mitch. "I think someone might have killed him."
Mitch stared at her and seemed as he was trying to stifle a well-duh expression. "And then?"
"I had to see if he was still alive. So I felt his neck," she lifted her hands. "That's how I got blood all over these. Oh no. I'm so gonna get in trouble for ruining Briny. Do you think they'll fire me? I love this job. It's the first time people liked me for me, not because of my beauty."
I gave her a reassuring smile. She hadn't realized people weren't seeing the real Daisy, only the Briny shell. Still, somewhere in her confusion, if you dug deep enough, you could find a logical thought. More importantly, she seemed to miss Mitch's gaze measuring her for a jail cell.
Or was he? For once, his eyes softened and bordered on sympathetic. "And then you called Paige?"
She pointed to the stump. "Well, no. First, I came over here and sat down because my knees were weak. Then I called her."
He nodded. "Did you recognize the vic?"
Daisy thought for a moment then shook her head. "I don't think I know anyone named Vic."
"The man, Ms. Plante. The man you found."
"Oh, him. Is his name Vic?"
"Daisy," I said making sure my voice held patience. "Vic is cop speak for victim."
"Ohh, I get it. Just like on those TV shows." She peered at Mitch. "No, I don't know him. Do you?"
"This is to remain confidential pending the notification of his next of kin." Mitch stared at Daisy's confused face. "Are we clear?"
He was staring at Daisy, but Adam and I both nodded. I held my breath.
Mitch cleared his throat. "His name is Gary Buzzy. If I'm not mistaken, he's a manager at Pacific Pickles."
Daisy's lips formed a round shape, but no sound escaped. I had no idea of my expression, but I sought out Adam whose face had paled. Tears pricked my eyes, and I swiveled to face Mitch. "Are you sure it's Gary?"
"The vic's ID belonged to Buzzy. Don't think he'd be carrying someone else's wallet, but I'll still need someone to make a positive identification. One of my men is breaking the news to his family right now."
"Oh, no. Karen will have to see Gary this way." I pictured our friend waiting for them to roll out a metal drawer with the love of her life on it. I shivered. I couldn't let her go alone.
Adam slipped his arm around me. "It's okay. Gary's with God now."
"I need to go sit with his wife, Karen," I said to Mitch and held back my tears. "Are we finished here?"
He shook his head. "I have a few more questions."
"Can you make it quick?"
He nodded and for the first time in a long time, I saw the boy who grew up next door to me and used to climb the big pine in my backyard, the boy who was one of my best friends. "You obviously knew the deceased. Tell me how."
"He and his wife attend our church. They joined our Bible study class a few months ago. Oh, and Gary's a client. I started a landscape renovation for them just this morning."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"Sunday morning, at church. Adam and I both saw him then."
"Sunday was the last time for me, too," Adam said.
Mitch turned to Daisy. "And you, Ms. Plante? Did you know him?"
A violent shake of her head sent blond ringlets into wild Slinky-like movements. "No, no, no."
"You weren't at the shop when he came in to sign his contract?" I asked.
Her head picked up speed. "No, I wasn't there. I've never even heard of him before."
Mitch held out Gary's wallet. "Take a good look at the picture on his license. Does he look familiar?"
She quickly peered at the wallet then closed her eyes and shook her head again. She looked like Lisa's daughter, Lacy as I caught her eating cookies when I was babysitting. She figured if she closed her eyes, I would disappear and spare her from a punishment. Was Daisy wondering the same thing?
Mitch cast a practiced eye over her, skepticism filling his gaze. I rarely agreed with him, but for some reason I felt like Daisy was lying. I thought back to Wednesday morning when Gary stopped in to sign his contract. Daisy was working, but she might have been outside or on a break. Or maybe she was just too stressed to remember, and she'd recall seeing him once she recovered from the incident.
I shook off my concerns. "Anything else, Mitch, or can I go?"
"You're free to go, but Ms. Plante will need to stay a little longer." His focus drifted to one of his men who summoned him with a jerk of his head. He motioned to Daisy. "Please wait here for now. Excuse me." He walked away.
I turned to Adam. "Can you stay with Daisy so I can go to Karen?"
Daisy clutched my hand with a stained glove. "No, Paige. Don't leave me. I need you here."
"Adam can take care of you. He's the best. He'll make sure nothing bad happens to you, and he'll call to keep me updated on what's going on." I pried my hand free. "You can trust him. Okay?"
She gave a weak nod, barely making her springy hair jiggle.
Adam moved closer and laid his hand on her shoulder.
I smiled. "Just remember, if you're innocent, nothing bad will happen."
I strode toward my truck, glancing at Gary's body half hidden with piles of leaves. I'd found Bud Picklemann's body buried in a mound of mulch and to this day, I couldn't look at mulch the same way again. Now leaves would lose their luster for me as well.
Still, in an odd way, his lying in the shade was fitting. I'd thought of Gary as Allegheny spurge, a shade loving perennial grown for the dramatic gray-green leaves. During Bible class he sat in his chair, a striking man you wouldn't miss if you scanned the room, and yet he seemed to want to hide in the shade and rarely made a comment. Now he would be silent forever, and I would forever wonder what he'd failed to say.
I climbed into my truck and glanced at Daisy one more time. I was too far away to see her expression, but her arms clasped around her middle and the rigid set of her back screamed apprehension, perhaps fear. Had she told the truth, or was she involved in Gary's death? Sighing, I shifted into gear and wondered how long it would be before I knew the answer.
Chapter Four
With the afternoon sun beating down and heating the interior of my battered truck, I pulled it to the curb outside the Buzzys' house. A fabulous white bungalow, it sat in the shade of towering pines surrounding the yard. The shade beckoned me out of the heat, yet the darkness seemed to reflect my mood. But my mood didn't matter. I could only imagine how Karen must be feeling.
Hopefully, I could help. And so would Lisa. I'd called her on the drive over, and she readily agreed to drop everything and rush over here. Her first husband Ben died in an auto accident on their one-year anniversary, making her the perfect person to console Karen. Lisa, if anyone, could feel Karen's pain and loss, but I didn't want to leave Karen alone for another minute so I headed up the sidewalk.
I stabbed a finger at the buzzer mounted on wide trim and waited. A police car had cruised by as I'd turned the corner, so I was certain an officer had already been here. I was surprised he didn't wait until someone arrived to sit with her. Knowing Karen, she'd sent him off. She was the only person I'd ever met whose need for control outweighed mine.
I pressed the doorbell again. Where was she? Was she avoiding people? In her room crying? I glanced into the side window. No movement. I checked the door. Locked. The Buzzys often left the back door unlocked, so I circled round back.
Through the cage of the Bobcat I'd delivered to aid in removal of the concrete patio tomorrow morning, I spotted Karen. She stood in the center of the patio, staring into the yard and dabbing a crumpled tissue at her eyes. To me, Karen was the perennial plant, feverfew. Many plants are stunners, standing out and drawing attention, but feverfew had more substance than flash. Much like Karen. Traditional in her dress, she was attractive in a conservative way, but what drew others to her were the qualities running deep inside. She emitted a faith that knew no bounds, but faith I knew the loss of her husband would test.
I approached. "Karen."
She slowly pivoted, a lost look in her eyes. "Oh, Paige. Good, I'm glad you're here. There's something I need to talk to you about."
"Anything you need." I wrapped my arms around her, but she remained stiff and lifeless. I pulled back and waited for her to tell me what I could do to help.
"This was Gary's favorite spot, you know. He poured this patio with his friend Nathan." She lowered her gaze to the exposed aggregate. "I'm not sure if I want to take it out now or not."
What? Her husband was just murdered and she wanted to talk about the landscape project? I was totally unprepared for this reaction.
Her head popped up with a forced smile tipping her generous lips. "They had so much fun mixing and pouring the concrete. We had a little barbeque when it was done and sat around the lawn admiring the patio. Gary was so proud of their work." Her eyes clouded over. "Until water started flooding the crawl space. Then he realized his mistake. He didn't know he had to slope the patio away from the house."
I didn't know what to say. This was not news to me. They hired me to make sure the new patio had the right pitch for water run off.
She dabbed at her eyes. "Gary went to work early today so he could come home when it was still light out. He was supposed to pick up the jackhammer and start busting this up after work. Just like Gary to try to fix his own mistake before you had to rip it out tomorrow." She paused with a dreamy look in her eyes. "When the officer came to the door, I thought it was Gary coming home even earlier to get the messy work done so you could make things beautiful again." She peered at me. "You can't, can you, Paige? Make anything about this situation beautiful?" She clutched her stomach, and the tears I'd expected earlier oozed out.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. "Maybe we should go inside. I'll make a cup of tea."
"No!" Her hands flew up. "I have to stay here. In Gary's favorite spot. Then he'll be close to me. Forever close. Right here on the patio." She made rapid darts of her eyes around the yard. "Yes, the patio stays. You need to get rid of all of the equipment." She pointed at the Bobcat. "Get that monster out of here."
"Karen, I think we should—"
"Now, Paige. I want it gone now!" Her vehemence allowed no argument.
"I can move it to the end of the driveway while I pick up the trailer from my shop to haul it off."
She nodded. "Good, good. Yes, better." She continued to nod, though I don't think she was conscious of the action.
"I have to get the key from my truck." Not wanting to leave her alone, I slowly backed away and pondered what to do. I reached the corner of the house and found my answer. Lisa pulled her silver minivan to a stop in front of the neighbor's house.
As she climbed out, I rushed to her. "Boy am I glad you're here."
She came around the back of the van. "Where's Karen? Is she all right?"
I explained Karen's odd state of mind.
Lisa's eyes clouded over as if painful memories of Ben's death were rushing back. "Sounds like she's in shock. I called Pastor Stephens. He's on the way. So is Karen's mom. She's coming from Portland."
"Maybe they can help her where I couldn't. I'll get the Bobcat key and move it to the end of the drive then go pick up my trailer. Can you stay with her?"
Lisa nodded. "Mom has the girls so I'm here as long as I'm needed."
With a worried heart, I retrieved the key and returned to the patio. I found Lisa, arm wrapped around Karen's shoulders, trying to ease her toward the door. Karen had set her feet like a stubborn child. This stance should be no match for supermom Lisa. Under any other circumstance, she would force Karen to move. Instead, Lisa spoke softly and kept encouraging Karen.
Quietly, I climbed onto the seat of the Bobcat and inserted the key.
"Good, get that thing gone." Karen pointed at the fence. "And all of these tools. Take them away, too."
With Karen watching my every move, I jumped down and loaded the tools into the front bucket. Fortunately, Karen didn't mention removing the plants delivered on Friday. Lisa and I had only transplanted a few of them this morning. I hoped Karen would let me finish the beds so her backyard wasn't left in a mess. That's the least I could do at a time like this.
I gave Lisa a farewell glance and rumbled down the drive. At my truck, I transferred the tools into the back and drove to The Garden Gate. After entering my code into the automated lock at the back door, I paused and drew in a deep breath to ease out the raw emotions flowing though me.
I'd planned to spend the afternoon at the Buzzys' house settling in more of the plants so my manager Hazel wasn't expecting me. Still, I had to let her know Daisy wasn't coming in for her afternoon shift and ask Hazel to call a possible replacement. Then I would move the Bobcat and spend time with Karen or Daisy, whoever needed me most.
I slipped into the dark hallway and let my eyes adjust. Once a service garage, I'd left the back section—office, break room and restroom—alone and concentrated on the public areas. I'd converted the three huge bays into a green house, a retail store and a classroom for teaching weekend gardening classes.