I sat forward. "Oh no. You mean Ryder didn't talk to you?" The sickness moved down to my stomach. "Lola, I'm sor—"
Her evil giggle floated through the phone. "There. A little revenge for you not telling me the second you knew that my boyfriend was going to desert me for some exotic vacation."
I collapsed back in relief. "You are a mean best friend, and I might just delete you from my contacts. How could you do that when I've been sick all day and then there was the whole dead Dorothy thing and all? And he's not going on an exotic vacation. It's for research. It'll be a great opportunity for him. Besides, you might be without a boyfriend, but they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I'll be without my stellar assistant. And right in the middle of bridal season."
"That's that then, I'll just tell him to stay home," she said flatly. "He told me he wouldn't go if I was upset about it."
I paused and let her rethink what she said.
"Of course I can't tell him to stay home. Like you said, it's a great opportunity, and I don't want to get in the way of his career."
"Smart girl," I said. "You're back in my contact list. Even though I've probably aged a few years with your little prank. By the way, you were only kidding about the cinnamon rolls, weren't you?"
Another crafty sounding giggle. "Maybe or maybe not. Guess it'll be a long Sunday night while you contemplate that question. So—Dorothy is dead? I guess the show didn't go on as they say."
"No it didn't. I stuck around for the investigation, but the fog was extra miserable down by the beach, so I was happy to get home to my flannel pajamas and my bed."
"Did I wake you?" she asked.
"No, I was just finishing my tea."
"I suppose I should let you sleep then." There was a touch of sadness in her voice.
"Hey, the time will fly, and just think of all the cool stories Ryder will have for us when he gets back. Besides, you have me to hang out with."
"You'll have no time for me. You'll be creating entire bridal arrangements all on your own."
"Maybe you can learn floral arranging in the meantime," I suggested just before yawning into the phone.
"Great, Ryder hasn't left and you're already bored with me. Go to sleep and get rid of this cold. I'm tired of looking at that red nose."
"I could powder it."
"Good night," Lola said.
"Good night." I put the phone on the dresser. I flicked off the light, scooted down into the cozy sanctuary of my bed and fell fast asleep.
Chapter 16
Nevermore woke me from a dream where I was building a model boat with a flying monkey. Then the monkey morphed into a cinnamon roll, and I ate him while sitting on a spinning tea cup. I shook it all from my head and realized, at once, that I was feeling better. Not a hundred percent but much better than the night before.
I had a good two hours before I needed to open the shop. I climbed out of bed and walked to the kitchen to feed Nevermore. There was no use trying to fall back asleep with a hungry cat hovering over me.
My phone rang the second I reached the kitchen. I had to race back to the bedroom to pluck it off my nightstand. I was expecting it to be Briggs with new information about the case but the screen said Mom. She occasionally liked to call before I left for work.
"Hello," I said as I quickly spun around to go back to the kitchen
"You have a cold," she said.
"How could you tell that with one word?"
"You sound very nasal."
"That's lovely to know." Nevermore swirled around the flannel legs of my pajamas, producing a good amount of static with his fur, as I reached up to the cupboard for his bag of food.
"You should make yourself some chicken soup." I was sure it was only the first of a litany of suggestions about how to take care of myself. (I would remain forever a kid in her mind.)
"I don't have time to make chicken soup. I already had some of Franki's and, while comforting, it isn't quite the miracle cure you moms purport it to be."
"What was I reading the other day?" she trailed off to have a chat with herself. "Oh yes, warm compresses that have been soaked in green tea. I read it someplace on the internet."
"Yes, well, did this rich, invaluable source also tell you where to place the compresses?" I poured the cat's food.
She paused. "Can't remember." Dad's voice drifted through the phone. He was having his usual background sidebar with her while we talked.
"I think I'll skip the compresses. I'm feeling better anyhow." I headed over to Kingston's cage and pulled off the fabric cover that provided him with artificial night. He was already bright eyed and pacing his perch for breakfast. I opened his cage. He climbed out and sat on top of it. Dad muttered something in the background. I tried to interpret what he was saying.
"I thought I heard Dad say something about eating fresh vegetables. Has he finally come around to the benefit of eating things that are green?"
"Oh, heavens no. I still have to coat his broccoli with cheese sauce. It's like feeding a six-year-old. No, he's talking about the llama."
"The llama?" I asked not sure I'd heard right. "Did you say llama? Oh my gosh, I'm going to be so mad if you finally got a cool pet after I begged you for a raccoon like the Meyersons had."
"That raccoon was ghastly and mean," she reminded me. It was true but it didn't stop me from wanting one.
"Never mind about that. What about the llama?" I headed back to the kitchen to make coffee.
Mom made a puffed sound. "Your father wants a pet llama because he read somewhere on the internet that some people use them as caddies on the golf course."
A laugh caused me to spill coffee on the counter. I grabbed a towel to clean it up. "I can just see Dad now walking to the first hole with his big fuzzy llama carrying his golf clubs in a pack on his back. That would either impress his golf buddies, or they'd be dialing the funny farm to come cart him away. Exactly where would he keep his new golf caddy? The den?"
"Obviously he's going to have to give up on the idea, but he has spent the last three days researching how to care for a llama," Mom scoffed.
"You two need some hobbies that don't include reading things on the internet."
"Anyhow, I was just calling to tell you we're traveling to see Aunt Millie for a few days in case you need us."
"That's nice. Give her a hug for me. And you realize that if I do need you, I'll still be calling this same number, so it really doesn't matter where you are as long as your phone is with you."
"Yes, I knew that, smarty pants" she said with some bluster. "I just thought you'd like to know where we were."
There was a knock on the door. "Yes and thank you for that. Have a safe trip, Mom. I've got to go."
"All right and don't forget the tea compresses and chicken soup," she reminded as she hung up.
I peeked through the peephole, even though I was fairly certain that it would be my thoughtful boyfriend checking up on me.
"Good morning," I said cheerily as I opened the door. We'd taken the significant step of giving each other house keys, but gentleman that he was, Briggs still always knocked first.
"You look much better." He walked inside and held up a tall white cup. "I've brought you something called a blueberry blast. It's basically a blueberry smoothie with all kinds of healthy stuff blended in. The girl at the smoothie shop said it's the best thing for a cold." He handed it to me. "I know it's not really the weather for smoothies, but I thought it might give you a little immunity boost."
The cup was cold in my fingers and the fruity scent of blueberries wafted up through the wide straw.
"Smells good. I've always thought that if the color blue had a fragrance, it would smell just like blueberries." I took a sip. "Hmm, delicious. I feel more immune already."
He walked to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. "I thought you'd be dressed for work by now."
"Probably would have been showered and dressed by now but there was this whole thing with my dad wanting t
o get a pet llama." I sat at the table with the delicious smoothie.
He laughed briefly. "And what would your dad do with a pet llama?"
"Why, use it as a golf caddy, of course." I took another sip.
"Of course. Don't know why I didn't think of that."
"I'm also hesitant to get out of these cozy flannel pajamas. Do you think people would take me seriously as a florist if I wore them to work?"
His chuckle nearly made him spill the coffee he'd just poured. "Not sure if they'd take you seriously, but it would definitely get you some publicity. And you know what they say, any publicity is good publicity. Even murder, apparently. I hear people still want tickets to the play, even though there doesn't seem to be a Dorothy."
Kingston was through being ignored. He dropped down off his cage and marched over to me. He stared up at me with shiny black eyes, trying his best to impersonate a puppy begging for a treat.
"I suppose you're ready for breakfast," I said.
"I'll get it." Briggs hopped up. He went to the refrigerator and took out two hard boiled eggs. Kingston wasted no time flying back to his cage to wait for the eggs.
"Have you heard anything about the case yet?" I asked.
"Nate called this morning with a preliminary report. Nothing too surprising. The victim died from strangulation with a computer cable. She tried to fight off her attacker, which was the reason for the red marks on her fingertips. She died somewhere between five and seven, after dress rehearsal and before the play was supposed to open."
"That sounds pretty much like what I expected. Where are you going to start?"
"Still sorting that out. I'll talk to a few more of the theater group members and see if anything stands out. Are you going to take the day off and rest?"
"No, I'm not that frail, James. I think I can manage a work day with a little cold."
He looked properly chastised. "Sorry, I just worry about you is all."
"I know and it's sweet." I took another sip of the smoothie. "I'm feeling so much better today, I'll probably have enough energy to run a flower shop and solve a murder on the side."
His crooked smile, my personal favorite, appeared. "I have no doubt of that."
Chapter 17
Some of the chill in the air and, thankfully, in my bones had disappeared. It was shaping up to be a beautiful morning, and I was feeling better every minute. The blueberry blast might just have done the trick. Ryder had been moping around the store all morning, tending to his tasks without his usual energy.
I thumbed through my bridal bouquet notebooks looking at arrangements with freesias. I was expecting a bridal customer, and she had mentioned that she was leaning toward freesias. Freesias were a wonderful flower that came in a variety of vivid colors and always carried a sweet perfume. They were perfect in vases and bouquets because they lasted a long time. Though she had specified freesias, she never mentioned color.
I decided to take Ryder's mind off of his imminent departure and Lola's subsequent pout with the topic of flowers. "The bride says she wants freesias. There are so many to choose from." I kept talking even though I wasn't entirely sure he was listening. He had busied himself with the dull task of cleaning the potting table. "I think a bridal bouquet would require at least one of the white species like Ballerina or Ambassador," I said. "The white blooms are an elegant way to highlight one of the brighter colored freesia, like Blue Bayou with its violet blue petals and bright yellow center, or, since it is a fall wedding, maybe some dark orange Clementines."
I looked his direction waiting for a response. He wiped the potting counter as if he was shining a prize automobile.
"Ryder, that is just the potting table. It's not going into any showroom."
He glanced up. "Huh?" He looked back at the table. "Right, guess my mind isn't on my work."
"It'll all work out, Ryder. And Lola is happy for you. I spoke to her last night."
"Really?" he asked.
"Sure, you know how she likes a good bit of drama. She'll come around, and I know she'll be just as excited for you as I am."
Ryder looked pointedly at the bridal notebook in front of me. "Except I'm leaving you without an assistant at the worst possible time."
"I'll manage. I'm sure I can find someone to help me in the store."
The bell signaled that my bridal customer had arrived. A young woman, who I'd seen in the store on other occasions, walked in looking just like every other future bride. Rosy cheeked, bright eyed and just a little bit freaked out. Weddings were so much work and stress, I sometimes wondered how the tradition had lasted through so many centuries. Fortunately for us florists, the wedding industry was big and booming as usual. Since the older woman at her side took the time to reach over and adjust a shiny blue barrette in the younger woman's hair, I quickly deduced she was Mom.
"We're here to look at some bridal bouquets. Hopefully, you'll have what we're looking for," the mother said primly. She adjusted her purse on her arm.
I caught the daughter's quick eye roll before she reached her hand forward. "I'm Penny and this is my mother, Wendy. You came highly recommended by my friend Ashley, Ashley Penbroke."
"Oh yes, I remember Ashley." I tapped my chin in thought.
"Cascading orchids and hydrangeas," Ryder said from the other side of the store.
"Yes," Penny said with a wide smile. "You have a good memory," she told him. The little positive moment seemed to put some spring back into his step.
"We don't do cascading orchids too often." Ryder looked at me. "I've got a few bouquets to deliver locally. I'll be back in an hour."
"Great." I turned back to my customers. "I've pulled out the notebooks that contain the freesia bouquets." We walked to the island, and I motioned for them to sit on the stools. "Do you know what your accent color will be? Are you going with autumn colors?"
As I spoke, Wendy squinted at me. "You were with Detective Briggs last night at that terrible disaster of a play."
Penny elbowed her lightly. "Mom, everyone knows that Detective Briggs is dating Pink of Pink's Flowers."
Wendy wriggled to a better posture on her stool. "You know I don't bother myself with town gossip." She turned to me. "Is it true that poor girl was murdered? Do you think they'll still have a play?"
"Mother," Penny said slightly aghast. "How can you worry about that when someone has been killed?"
"Well, excuse me, Penny, but your father and I were looking very forward to that play."
"Yes, it was disappointing," I said calmly to cool off the discussion. I flipped open the notebook. "I assume you'll want some white freesias, or maybe you were thinking of using a second flower."
"I'm thinking white and possibly a blue or lavender," Penny said. "You know it might have been the actor playing Tin Man, or, at the very least, someone who had reason to be jealous of him."
My ears perked up. "Oh, why do you say that?"
"Remember, Mom, when I told you Debbie and I saw the two actors sitting on the bench on the wharf?" Penny turned to me. "It was yesterday afternoon. Late. maybe just before three. The woman was dressed as Dorothy and the man was dressed as the Tin Man. At first she seemed to be angry with him. She pushed away his hand a couple of times but eventually she was smiling and then they looked cozy. Or as cozy as one could get with a Tin Man," she added with a laugh, then her expression changed. "Wow, I guess that was the woman who was murdered. I hadn't thought of that until just now. Gosh, I might have been one of the last people to see her alive." She seemed overly proud of the grim fact but then she was young and probably didn't know too many dead people.
I calculated in my head some of the timeline. It seemed Amanda Seton had had a busy schedule ahead of the three o'clock dress rehearsal. First, she took a trip to Elsie's bakery with Gordon. Then she left him and took a walk on the wharf with Johnny. Both witnesses, Elsie and Penny, described the interactions as flirty and cozy. Instantly, I wondered if the two men knew about the other's off stage friendship with the leadi
ng lady.
"All right, enough of the gossip, Penny. We need to get serious about picking flowers for this wedding, or you'll have to walk down the aisle holding daisies from my garden."
Penny perked up on the stool. "Exactly right, Mom. Let's go through the notebook."
"I placed a pink tab to show you all the pages that contain bouquets with freesias. These are just sample ideas. You can make any customized changes you like. I'll give you some time to browse the notebook. I'll just be over at the potting table if you need me."
"Thanks," Penny said.
I walked over to the potting area and pulled some mini pots from the shelf. Tom and Gigi had asked for some oregano plants and the nursery had delivered some flats. My mind drifted to the murder case. Gordon was seeing Constance but also spent quality time with Amanda. Amanda was also spending time with Johnny. Elsie was right. It seemed as if there was some hanky panky going on in Oz, after all.
Chapter 18
The wedding order along with several other special occasion orders took most of the morning. The blueberry blast had run its course, and my stomach was growling. Ryder had taken Lola to a special lunch, hoping to cheer her up. (My friend knew how to use drama to her advantage.)
As if she had some sort of special sixth sense, which would not have been the least bit surprising, Elsie strolled in carrying two bowls that smelled divine and had long tails of steam.
She placed a bowl down. "Lunch to help zap away that cold. I was making Les his grumble lunch of quinoa, sweet potatoes and broccoli and I decided to make extra for you."
I lowered my nose to the bowl. "Hmm, garlic and onions. Did you say this is Les's grumble lunch?"
"Yes. Remember I've got him on the healthy diet during the week."
"How can we forget," I said. "He laments his hardship all the time. So I suppose grumble lunch because he grumbles and complains about it so much?"
"You've got it."
"No complaints from me," I said. "I'm hungry so your timing is perfect."
Freesias and Foul Play Page 8
